


Pharos of My Soul

by pengiesama



Series: Dragon Bride AU (Pharos of My Soul) [1]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Dragons, F/F, Ghosts, M/M, Mpreg, Pirates, Weird Biology, Weird In General, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengiesama/pseuds/pengiesama
Summary: Prince Sorey had always longed for freedom, adventure, and fairytale romance. But that was not something that a prince of the realm was destined for. He had resigned himself to an arranged marriage for the good of his kingdom, and those fairytale dreams would stay locked away in his heart for good.And then his wedding got crashed by a man-eating dragon.





	1. Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> So one fine afternoon I was cruising through Tumblr, minding my own business and cramming my dumb face with snacks, when I saw a photoset of a movie that appeared to be about a lady getting dick from a dragon. I was intrigued! The photoset didn't actually show dicks or nothing but I had hopes, you know? So I made Ali (spirithorse) and Nami (croixsouillees) watch it with me.
> 
> That movie was _He's a Dragon_. It delivered on some things, but not others. (Like dragon dick, or subtitles that were in comprehensible English.) We were left wanting, and so Ali and I decided to make twin Sorey/Mikleo AUs where we took the good bits of lore and stuff from the movie and mixed them up into something unique and delicious, like we were at a froyo bar and the toppings were xenophilia and mpreg and dragon dick and Sorey was there with his mouth open under the yogurt dispenser. Nami made art for it when she wasn't watching from the sidelines in growing horror.
> 
> Anyway! This is my version of the AU!! Check out the DragonBrideAU collection tag to see Ali's version!! 
> 
> Mind the tags, PLEASE mind the tags, this shit is gonna get weird.

_\--_

 

Long ago, there was a kingdom besieged by a terrible creature.

This kingdom enjoyed many blessings, from its bountiful seaside trade to its rich mines and fertile soil. But these blessings came with a bloody price: upon the winter solstice, when shadows stretched long into the eternal night, it came time for a grim ritual. 

Every town and village under the jurisdiction of the crown was to send a young and beautiful youth to the kingdom’s capital. Failure to provide this tithe would result in it being collected by force; by stony-faced soldiers dragging doomed beauties from the arms of their screaming, weeping families. On the solstice day, when the sun reached its zenith, these offerings were dressed in white, painted in red, and set adrift on tiny lanterned boats in the walled harbor. With the icy air straining their voices, the wind freezing their tears to their faces, the gathered crowd would sing the dirge that summoned the great and terrible being that blotted out the sun with its wings.

_Bishebxbukk laru dutiwu ok, si bishebxbukk nu wusowb_

_Upuwveshebx nemm du tiwxissub_

_Obswoshk duliru swoshk, tminebx eb shu limy nasuwk_

_Twuuzebx eb shu elv wepuw_

_Miks si shu wafeyk it seru'k wepuw,_

_Bidiuv nemm rekk huw._

_Anaesebx shu dweyu-xwiir,_

_Khu naesk hiowk si a maks,_

_Ywukkuy amm eb nhesu,_

_Obyuw shu khwioy, anaesebx huw uby._

_Shu nuyyebx dumm kiobyk._

_Xwad huw! Kuezu huw!_

_Liru ib! Tmv!_

_Tiwupuw, a viobx pewxeb._

 

Like a sea-hawk diving for fish, the dragon would seize an unlucky offering from the presented boats in its awful claws, and carry it off like a perverse bride-groom to whence it came – across the sea, over the horizon, to distant shores unknown and unreachable. The poor soul clutched in its grip would never be seen again. The kingdom would mourn, praying for a salvation that never came.

All praying, and no doing. No heroes stood against the beast, no champions for the sacrificed dragon brides came forth. What was the weight of one soul a year when the blood of the entire kingdom was in the balance? The sea killed more. The winter killed more. The beasts of the wild and the brigands of the road killed more. One could not fight the natural order of things. Hopeless. Fruitless. Nothing to be done, nothing at all.

It would do you well to be thankful that you and yours were not next.

It was just so, until an offering was made of a beauty that was the beloved of a brave warrior. The warrior watched in horror as the dragon snatched up their love from the harbor, like a wriggling trout. It made off for the horizon, bellowing its piercing cry over the screaming of its captured bride. The warrior seized a ship and gave chase; upon losing sight of the speedy beast, they navigated by the stars and the pull of their heart, finally coming upon a strange island enshrouded in mist. 

The warrior was a keen tracker, and explored the island with rope and hook and aching heart. They finally came upon the dragon’s lair, but the warrior’s beloved was nowhere to be found.

One could not say the same about the dragon. Its eyes seemed to gleam from the caves’ shadows, piercing the warrior’s soul.

In a rage, the warrior flew at the dragon, pitting spear and shield against tooth and claw. After a great battle, the warrior stood victorious. Although bereft and wretched with heartache at their murdered beloved, the warrior returned home from the misty isle; welcomed as a hero for the ages. 

The kingdom suffered under the shadow of the dragon no longer. Peace reigned. It was just so.

 

\--

 

Centuries wore on, and the march of time dulled the kingdom’s memory of the brides’ sacrifices. It was in this peaceful age that we begin our tale, and meet a young, handsome prince named Sorey.

The young and handsome prince of a wealthy and prosperous kingdom could expect his choice of spouse. Indeed, the topic of who would receive Prince Sorey’s hand had provoked no less than two dozen duels, countless passive-aggressive snipes at official events, and at least one public poetry competition in this, the year leading up to his eighteenth birthday. Above it all, standing upon the beaten and battered bodies of the hopefuls, one suitor reigned victorious: Rose Sparrowfeather, a direct descendent of the legendary folk hero that defeated the dragon that terrorized the kingdom. While this pedigree brought her no little renown in itself, what truly gave her the edge in her fight for a royal marriage arrangement was her shipping and trading company’s role in making the kingdom prosperous. Nobles scoffed at her lack of blue blood, but were green with jealousy at the thought of the riches in her bank coffers.

Sorey had been prepared for a marriage of convenience, a marriage for financial and political gain, for some time. Even as a young boy, he knew that the storybook romances he’d devoured in the royal library were not the future he was destined for. But, he sighed as he looked at the books’ illustrations, at the sketches of the beautiful, dangerous creatures that once flew Midgand’s skies, it was nice to imagine.

He closed his eyes and dreamed of the wind in his hair, of a powerful creature spiriting him away to distant lands and freedom over the horizon.

Yes, it was nice to imagine.

The day of his wedding dawned, and his mother had shooed away most of his attendants to see to his long hair herself. Seeing to his hair was never a chore that Sorey could accomplish on his own – the tips of it brushed at his ankles, and it was thick and voluminous enough to devour weak combs in a single bite. It was to be cut away by his intended on the night of their wedding, then burned with incense as an offering and prayer for blessings on their union. Sorey was more than a little worried that the sheer volume of it was going to burn the whole royal wedding suite down.

The horsehair brush and jeweled comb smoothed away the tangles of sleep, and then his mother set to tangling it more deliberately and neatly into a complicated braid down his back.

“Sorey.”

Sorey looked up at the sound of his mother’s voice, briefly pausing in the middle of his two-dozenth reading of his favorite book. Queen Selene’s face was troubled, and Sorey frowned in concern. Hand to his cheek, she stroked at the tender skin beneath his eye; marked with dark circles from too little sleep the night before.

“Sorey. She’s a good match. Even if she cannot bring you happiness, she…”

“I know,” Sorey said softly, taking his mother’s hand in his own. “I know.”

He was resplendent in his wedding robes. A diamond-and-pearl headdress perched atop his head, and ropes of the sparkling gemstones trailed from it to brush at Sorey’s shoulders and weave into the twist of braids trailing down his back. The high-necked white robes were liberally stitched with complicated embroidery detailing the heraldry of the kingdom – a full-maned lion in mid-leap, surrounded by its subjects, and wreathed in laurels – and they were so heavy with diamonds and pearls that Sorey was sure he would sink the boat that he was to be paddled out in during the ceremony. As it was, he could barely walk in the long cloak, and couldn’t turn his head without his headdress chiming like a bell.

(Though that was not strictly a complaint. Sorey moved his chin experimentally. Chime, chime.)

An attendant bustled into the room, curtsying to the queen and prince, and quietly told them that it was soon to be time for the ceremony. Another attendant took the book from Sorey’s hands (childishly, Sorey felt its loss as an addition to his grief – he had been hoping to finish the chapter while he was brought out), and Selene pressed a kiss to his forehead before leading him out of the room and down the stairs of the palace. From there, he was carried off to the palace docks on horseback, and bustled into a single-person boat: a gondola elegantly carved from fine wood, lit by a glowing lantern, and lavishly heaped with flowers and fragrant incense.

In ages past, he would doubtlessly be quaking in delicious white-hot terror as his boat was dragged out into the open waters; waiting in this wedding-bed for a dragon bride-groom to seize him and take him as its own. Generations past would surely see this ceremony as a mockery of their suffering, but the kingdom now simply saw it as a pageant of the kingdom’s distant history, and a perfectly standard wedding ceremony. With one of today’s wedding participants being as she was a descendant of that celebrated dragon slayer, this pageant seemed all the more appropriate: the folk hero, finally reunited with her lost bride (played in this scenario by a rather unenthused Prince). That dirge that once heralded the blackening of the skies had become a beloved folk tune of times long past, and the musicians that dotted the banks began to lead the cheering crowds in a joyous chorus.

Sorey occupied his racing thoughts with a running translation of the dark lyrics.

 

_Before, there was neither time_   
_Nor land, nor dust – nothing_   
_Everything's forgotten_   
_There were myths that became truth_   
_The river grew cold and the water froze into nothingness_

_Time – a fast flowing river that evades no one_   
_The bride awaits her groom_   
_As she awaits her last hour_   
_Wrapped in white, she stands just like in a shroud_   
_Doomed to peace, the wedding bell rings_

_Take her away, take her away! Come to her, fly to her!_   
_The young maiden is given for eternity_

 

Sorey would love to discuss with someone the anthropological journey that caused the sacrificial ceremony to merge with wedding traditions. He tried to talk about it with Rose, once, but she seemed very uninterested.

Sorey laid back on his wedding-bed of flowers and stared at the skies, dimly feeling the boat moving beneath him. The bridal boat had a long rope attached to its bow, and during the ceremony, the bride-groom – awaiting on the opposite shore – used this to haul in their partner. It was altogether very romantic in the right hands, though it often instead looked like an overly-dressed deckhand hauling in an equally tarted-up catch of the day. It usually ended with one very sweaty and exhausted bride-groom, or a bride in the lake, or potentially both. Sorey had dreamed of eloping off to distant lands just as often as he’d daydreamed about this ceremony going well. Perhaps a dragon would come fish him out of the waters when he inevitably botched his gondola exit, and save him the embarrassment of having to face everyone afterwards.

His parents stood on the raised dais behind him, overseeing the ceremony from their perch. Rose awaited him on the opposite bank, and he could feel her gaze on him as she continued to pull him in. Once he reached her, she would help him from the boat, and would surely tease him about his fancy robes and headgear. She would whistle over his dowry. Then the vows would be said, the crowds would cheer. A legendary romance indeed.

The crowd finished singing the dragon’s dirge, and sent up a resounding cheer. It was a funerary song for the romance he had always yearned for, and had never, ever been destined for.

Sorey tried to be positive about the situation. Perhaps there were some new books for him in the wedding gifts, and perhaps they’d let him eat dessert first at the wedding feast, since it was, well, his own wedding—

Suddenly, a dark shadow passed over the sun, blotting out its light for a brief moment. The crowd murmured in confusion, but that confusion turned to panic and terrified cries as they saw the truth of it.

The dragon’s shrill cry rattled the windows of surrounding buildings, and briefly deafened Sorey as it repeated its shriek while it circled overhead. Sorey had been trained with falcon birds, just like any proper noble boy, and saw in this dragon the way his birds adjusted their speed and position to better snatch up their prey in one deadly swoop. As his hearing returned, he heard the shouts of his father, commanding the guards to lower their spears lest they miss and hit Sorey’s boat; he heard the screams of his mother, demanding that they haul Sorey’s boat back before it was too late. He could have spotted Rose, snatching up a bow and arrow from a guard too dumbstruck with terror to act, and could have spotted her taking aim at the beast – he could have spotted this if he was at all able to look away from the breathtaking creature above him.

Sorey had always been fascinated by dragons. He was thrilled even now to see that this one lived up to its species’ reputation. Its long, graceful body was covered in shining scales that ranged from the color of the sapphires and pearls on Sorey’s brooches, to the aquamarines decorating his mother’s bracelets, to the opals that adorned the throne. It was as agile in the air as a fish was in the seas. Its horns framed a pair of massive eyes that – oh, Sorey could call them amethysts but never before had he seen a stone as lovely and brilliant. Sorey had always wondered why his falcons’ prey stood frozen and dumbstruck, helpless but to watch as the birds descended upon them. He understood now.

Fast as lightning, the dragon dove, claws extended, to seize the bride that had been so graciously offered. The force of the dive sent Sorey’s boat under the waves; soaking his heavy robes with freezing water and shocking the breath out of Sorey’s lungs. He gasped, and was rewarded with a lungful of saltwater. The dragon’s claws seized around his midsection, mercifully choking the water from him, but likewise choking the life from him.

The impact of the dragon’s dive and the freezing water had rattled his brain and body both, and it made Sorey’s recollection of the events that followed next hazy. He dimly heard the horrified screams of the crowd, and felt the dizzying vertigo of being lifted into the skies. He felt his abductor lurch and heard a pained shriek, and looking up, could see the shaft of an arrow buried in the dragon’s leg. In his shaken and delirious state, Sorey felt his heart ache with pity for the creature. The dragon adjusted the grip of its wounded leg on Sorey’s midsection, and Sorey felt his side throb in agony – one of its claws dug into him quite deeply with the shift.

Made useless with pain and frozen joints, held fast in the dragon’s grip, Sorey felt his consciousness slip away as he was carried off over the horizon. 

 

\--

 

Sorey awoke in darkness, though he expected to not wake at all.

He groaned and tried to pull himself upright; the sharp pain that shot from his side proved this course of action unwise. Sorey remembered the dragon’s claw digging into his side as they flew, and hesitantly, gingerly pulled the bloodied white wedding robes away from his side to inspect the damage. The wound was deep, and oozed fresh blood at Sorey’s movements. Sorey groaned in pain and let himself lay back on the ground where had had awoken, squeezing his eyes shut to try and keep his mind off the agony.

The wound needed to be cleaned, and stitched up and bandaged. The idea of finding supplies for any of that was surely a pipe dream. Sorey at least needed to get up and find some way to escape, to hide, before his abductor returned from…wherever they’d gotten to. Honestly, where _had_ they gotten to? Sorey had fully expected to be devoured like the rest of the brides, and was a tiny bit offended at being left to bleed out on the ground instead. He was quite certain that he was delicious, and nutritious, and would definitely squirm very alluringly as the dragon loomed over him, massive and—

“Stop trying to move.”

He heard a voice from the darkness, echoing off the stone walls and ground. It was so...soft, and warm, and it was human-sounding. A shadow fell over him, and Sorey opened his eyes to see a cloaked figure kneeling over his body. Sorey could see little of their features under the darkness of their cloak, but managed to glimpse a pair of violet eyes before his vision went white with pain once more.

“I told you to stop trying to move. Lie back and look up at the ceiling.”

Sorey gasped for breath, trying to calm his racing heart, for surely that was only making the bleeding worse. He heard a tearing noise, and then, blessed numbness chased away the pain that tore through his side. Sorey tried to raise himself to his elbows once more, but was again shoved to lay back by his cloaked savior.

“I put on an herb salve to help with the pain and stop the bleeding. Tore your clothes some more to do it. If you move again and bleed out while I’m stitching you up, I’m not apologizing.”

“Th—th…thank you…” Sorey felt a bit woozy. Perhaps he’d lost more blood than expected. “Sorey…my name’s Sorey…what’s your name…?”

His cloaked savior did not reply. He simply clipped a length of thread to punctuate the deliberate silence, and threaded a needle to begin stitching Sorey’s wound. His fingers were so nimble and graceful, and Sorey almost wished his side wasn’t so numb – he would love to feel his savior’s touch more fully. Certainly that was more of the blood-loss talking.

With the stitches stitched and tied off, his cloaked savior undid Sorey’s robes enough to slip his hands inside them and wind a length of bandages around his stomach. Sorey couldn’t stop staring at him, couldn’t help the dreamy smile that refused to leave his lips. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes. With his tending-to complete, Sorey reached up with one weak, shaking hand to brush his thumb against the softness of that cheek underneath the cloak.

“...Sorey, my name’s Sorey…please, I want…I want to know your name…”

His savior’s expression was entirely unreadable. His piercing eyes stared at him, and Sorey’s soul seemed to resonate and sing like a wine glass at his regard.

“…I will show you to the altar when you are ready,” his savior said. “If you can move, we can go there now.”

“Okay,” Sorey said, unsure of what he was agreeing to, but already entirely ready to follow this mysterious boy to the ends of the earth.

His savior rose to his feet, carefully helping Sorey rise with him. As they walked through the winding tunnels – he now realized that they were in a network of caves – Sorey couldn’t help but notice that his savior walked with a noticeable limp, and often had to pause and scramble for balance on the cave walls. Sorey caught him mid-stumble, and helped him back to his feet with a gentle hand.

“Do you need me to carry you?” Sorey asked. “It’s the least I can do, you saved me--”

His savior wriggled from his grip, and bundled his cloak tighter around himself. That unreadable gaze was back on Sorey in full force, and Sorey shivered.

“Saved you?” his savior repeated. There was almost a hint of laughter in his tone. “But no. No, it would upset your wounds. Please just follow me.”

Soon, they came upon a large cave; its ceiling was open, showing the moon and stars above. An altar stood at the room’s center, directly under the moonlight. It was draped with tapestries and soft silk cushions, and resembled a marriage-bed more than the altar his savior had described. Warmth flooded to Sorey’s cheeks at the idea. His savior extended his hand. Sorey was helpless but to take it.

“Lie down,” his savior murmured. “You’re wounded. I’ll do the work. Just look up at the stars.”

His savior dropped his cloak. It was unfathomable that Sorey could look anywhere except at the beauty before him. His hair was white as pearls, with the color of aquamarine chasing through the strands. Graceful-looking horns arched from his head and framed his lovely face, with its full lips and high cheekbones, and those eyes, _those eyes_. His porcelain skin was accented by silvery blue scales on his neck, his shoulders, on his hips, along the outsides of his thighs. Sorey’s heart ached at the sight of the bloody bandage wrapped around one of those perfect legs.

“Please,” Sorey said hoarsely. “Your name.”

His savior gazed at him evenly. “My name is Mikleo.”

His savior – Mikleo – wasn’t wearing a scrap of clothing now that the cloak was pooled around his ankles. Sorey sat down heavily on the altar – on their marriage-bed – his face a picture of slack-jawed wonder and naked desire.

Mikleo put a hand on his chest to ease him back onto the cushions, and set about undressing him. Sorey’s fingers fumbled at the closures and knotted cords that secured his clothing, desperate to partake in what was being offered. Once Sorey was just as bare, Mikleo straddled his hips. His gaze was molten, drinking in every inch of Sorey’s body. He rubbed his own hardness against Sorey’s already-rigid cock, letting out soft little noises with each movement that maddened Sorey’s mind. Sorey’s hands came up to grasp his slender waist, dragging him up and forward just enough so Sorey’s cock could rub between his thighs instead. Sorey didn’t expect the slickness there, but could do little to stop himself from enjoying the wet, warm slide of his cock against Mikleo’s body. Mikleo moved his hips once more to reposition himself, and – _oh._

Sorey had never been with anyone before, not like this. He was buried deep inside this mysterious boy, his slicked cock rutting into him with an animalistic urgency just as Mikleo moved his hips to ride him in turn. Sorey tried to keep his voice down to hear the beautiful noises coming from Mikleo’s lips, but it seemed an impossible task. He laid back against the cushions and tried to take it all in – Mikleo bouncing up and down on his cock, clinging to Sorey’s shoulders, his tail curled around Sorey’s leg for balance, his lovely face dusted with pink and his violet eyes dark with need – need for Sorey and Sorey alone. A pair of beautiful wings spread wide from his back, as if ready to take flight. Sorey slid one hand to the back of Mikleo’s neck, bringing him in for a chaste kiss that was so contrary to the way Sorey’s cock pulsed and spilled his seed inside of Mikleo’s body. Mikleo made an almost frantic noise at the feeling, and Sorey felt his walls flutter around his cock as Mikleo followed him over the edge.

Sorey cradled Mikleo close to him in their little nest of cushions, in their marriage-bed, but the closeness was unfortunately short-lived. Mikleo squirmed away from him and climbed off the altar, fetching his discarded cloak from the ground and bundling himself in it once more. Sorey felt so cold, even surrounded by the lingering warmth of their bed.

“Mikleo?” he asked, more than a little hurt.

“You’re free to go,” Mikleo said, more than a bit curt.

Sorey rose and blinked owlishly at him; his headdress hanging askew and half-off, his hair a mess. Mikleo could clearly tell that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere, and grew visibly frustrated.

“Leave the caves. Take the first three rights and then a left,” Mikleo explained, annoyed. “Then go down to the shore – forgive me for not mentioning this, but we are on an island – and you’ll find a few shipwrecks that are still seaworthy. Your kingdom is directly northeast from here, simply go straight through the mists and follow the pull of your--”

“Wait. I don’t want to leave,” Sorey said. His hands went up to try and work the dangling headpiece off. The beads were tangled hopelessly in his hair. “Can’t we sit down and get to know each other a little better?”

“No. I’ve taken what I need,” Mikleo said firmly. “Leave now before I can no longer keep myself from taking any more.”

Sorey made a despairing noise, and reached out for Mikleo before wincing at the renewed pain in his side and falling back onto the bed. Mikleo’s face went soft with concern, and he was there in an instant at his bedside to inspect his bandage.

“I told you I’d do all the work,” Mikleo scolded. “If you’d have just listened to me, you could have fled and gotten back to your kingdom before I…”

“Before you what?” Sorey groaned. He reached out to stroke at Mikleo’s cheek again.

Mikleo rolled his eyes and let out a little huff from his nose, as if in disbelief that Sorey didn’t know…whatever he didn’t know. Sorey knew that he didn’t know a great many things, but what he did know was that he wanted to get to know Mikleo a little better. A lot better. To stay here in this marriage-bed a while more, then take Mikleo home with him and get to know him again and again in Sorey’s own bedchambers –

“Once impregnated, dragons are overcome with terrible hunger. Generally, we eat the brides you provide to us after we take their seed, but I lack interest in continuing that tradition. I wanted to give you time to escape before the hunger consumes me, but since you refused to listen to my directions, I’ll have to think of another way to keep you safe while you recover enough to make the trip home--”

“Wait,” Sorey interrupted. “Wait.”

“What?” Mikleo said, annoyed at being interrupted.

“Impregnated? You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Mikleo said, drawing out the word slowly, as if saying something quite obvious indeed. “That is generally what happens when--”

“It’s mine?” Sorey asked, with growing excitement.

Mikleo stared at him uneasily. “…obviously? Do you not remember mating a few moments ago?”

“I remember it,” Sorey said dreamily. “I’ll always remember it. And now we have a baby to look forward to…”

Sorey painstakingly dragged himself upright. He clasped Mikleo’s hands in his, and looked at Mikleo with a gaze full of love and single-minded purpose.

“I will take responsibility,” Sorey swore.

“Excuse me?” Mikleo asked, flat. “No. I will show you to a safe spot in the cave system where you can recover, and where I can’t get to you in my larger form when the hunger seizes me. Once you’re mended, you’ll take a boat and--”

Sorey was absolutely not listening, like, at all.

“You said this is an island, so there’ll be fish to catch for you to eat,” Sorey continued to babble aloud. “Seaweed’s very tasty too, if you didn’t already know that. I’ll have to check out what kind of climate and foliage this island has so I can gather fruits and veggies for you, and maybe hunt down some larger game. I won’t have you do all that work; your leg is hurt, and now you’re gonna be eating for two.”

Sorey imagined Mikleo, about six months along, waddling adorably beside him, hand-in-hand on the beach in the setting sun. He imagined a little one with Mikleo’s cute little horns and his cute little tail, calling him “papa” while Mikleo curled against his side and – honestly, Sorey felt about ready to die of mortal bliss, and this time he was certain it wasn’t the blood-loss. Sorey lovingly patted Mikleo’s tummy, and Mikleo smacked him away irritably.

“ _You’re_ going to do the work? You, the one with the gaping wound in his side?” Mikleo shot back. He paused, then seemed to frizz up with rage. His wings flared and his tail slapped the ground to punctuate. “And you’re not doing it period because you’re leaving!”

“What kind of man do you take me for?” Sorey said, hurt. “I would never abandon my bride and child. Anyway, I’ll have to make some tools if you don’t have any on hand, but it’ll just be half a day before I’m out and about; people don’t expect much of me, probably, but I was trained in a lot of outdoors survival stuff by my tutors…”

Mikleo tested his leg, and wondered if he could heal up fast enough – before the hunger hit – to just pick up Sorey and airdrop him back in his kingdom. He should’ve known better than to pick up strange men in boats.


	2. Gone Fishin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo's tumbly is getting the rumblies that only Sorey's flesh can satisfy, and Rose does her best to play hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, ya girl's back at it again. I wanted to dedicate this chapter and give my thanks to AO3 user berrymelon, who provided us with a translation of the dragon dirge (in Chapter One) that makes sense! <333 I've replaced the original version with their translation, but you can ping me directly if you want to laugh at the original.

 

\--

 

That human was still here, and Mikleo didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.

Like most of his kind, he was drawn to that ancient siren song, with its promises of food and a mating partner (though not in that order). He had heard its sound over the waves many times in the past, but he had been able to ignore it...until this year, when he reached mating age. The winter solstice had already made him wretched with the intensity of his first heat, and when he heard the first few notes of the song echo to him, he had already taken to the air before he could even breathe. It lured him in to that nearby human kingdom; the one that reaped all the benefits of the protection of a nearby dragon nest, and had repaid their debt by murdering his mother – his dutiful, loving mother, who asked only for a single human a year to feed herself and her child. There had been no one to collect the payments since then. No one but Mikleo. In the frenzy of his heat, he reasoned that they were far overdue.

It was only on the way back to the island, with said payment clutched clumsily with a wounded leg, that Mikleo began to recover his senses. As a young boy, he had always felt so sorry for the humans his mother brought back to the nest to feed on – they wept and begged and screamed for mercy. His mother always gave them a quick and painless end, and solemnly told Mikleo of the respect they must give for their sacrifice. But it was hard to enjoy the meal afterward. Perhaps the fish that they caught also begged for their lives, just in a language he was unable to understand. His understanding being what it was, though, Mikleo now shied away from the idea of devouring humans. He knew he would one day be unable to resist taking one to the sacred altar for mating, but he swore that he would not give in to the hunger. He shivered at the memory of the screams.

Mikleo’s island nest, with its treacherous currents and befuddling constant fog, was a hotspot for shipwrecks. For the nearby human kingdom, it frustrated sea invasion attempts from foreign nations, and allowed it to prosper into what Mikleo understood was a very wealthy settlement indeed. He lived a solitary life after his mother’s death – while his mother’s old friend Lailah occasionally came to visit every decade or so, he largely passed his days here alone; fiddling with projects, winding through the ancient stone ruins around the mountain’s foot, and wandering the shores looking for treasures in the sand. Mikleo had taught himself to read some of the books that washed ashore in waterproofed chests and boxes, and learned quite a bit about the lands around him.

Even not being able to comprehend some of the more difficult texts, Mikleo could gather an understanding. It was not like it was in the past, where a dragon making off with an able pair of working hands could potentially starve a whole family. No, a single missing person would hardly be missed at all. Mikleo had spent so many years all alone on his island. The idea of living such a lonely life despite being surrounded by so many other beings gave him a strange, uncomfortable resonance.

Indeed, he had not been able to resist snatching up Sor—the human. And, despite his intentions, he was also apparently unable to treat him gently. Mikleo’s heart had ached at the sight of the deep wound in his side as he’d set his kidnappee down as gently as he could manage. That ache in his chest kept his mind off the ache in his own leg, and the dangerous growls from his stomach at the scent of the human’s blood.

What was more dangerous was the way the human looked at him. Mikleo was aware from his reading that humans had a number of neuroses revolving around mating – that it could engender some sort of peculiar fixation. Mikleo thought he had prepared himself for the possibility that this human would fall under the grip of such a compulsion…but that starved, adoring stare made Mikleo feel like the fish in the shallows: seeing the jaws and the intent behind the eyes that gazed upon him, and powerless to do anything but hide in the corals and wait for his interest to abate.

But it did not abate.

Perhaps eating him would be more bearable than dealing with this.

“Mikleo!” Sorey continued to call and call for him, until he finally found Mikleo’s hiding spot at the top of the mountain that crowned the island. He smiled at him so brightly, so sweetly, and presented to him a makeshift short-spear with a half-dozen fish skewered on it. He was dressed in the loose linen breeches that he had been wearing under his jewel-covered robes, and had repurposed part of the garment as a loose jacket that gaped open to show his chest. Mikleo himself had quite the collection of clothing, salvaged from the boxes that washed ashore – currently, he was wearing a pair of loose-fitting trousers with a jeweled belt. The fabric was thin and flowing, and he jingled and chimed quite delightfully as he walked. Chime, chime. Perhaps he should offer Sorey some undamaged garments to cover himself with. It seemed only polite for his guest.

“There you are. I caught you some breakfast; it’s still warm, so eat up.”

Mikleo flicked his eyes from Sorey’s bare chest to the bandage wrapping his torso, then eyed the skewer he was handed, and the steam coming off the fish. He was aware that humans did not tend to take their meals raw, though he wasn’t especially interested in partaking of the experience himself.

It wasn’t as though he’d been hiding from the human up here, honestly. He had simply been seized by the urge to nest, and had been dragging all the most colorful and warmest blankets and sheets and pillows from his collection of shipwreck relics up to the highest cave of the island’s mountain. Which was where Sorey had found him. Nesting, and Not Hiding.

“What a gorgeous view…” Sorey breathed, walking over to one of the natural openings in the cave’s walls. It overlooked the whole island, and the ocean beyond it; the waves sparkling in the early morning sun.

Mikleo hadn’t chosen it for looks – he’d chosen it as his nesting spot due to its seclusion and the ease of defending it. He was aware that both he and the puppies could very well share his mother’s fate if he wasn’t cautious. After all, Mikleo couldn’t imagine that there weren’t people who would be looking for Sorey. Just another reason why he wished he would _leave_.

Mikleo’s stomach growled, and to stave off the hunger, he took a small, hesitant bite of the fish Sorey had presented him with.

“Good?” Sorey chirped at him eagerly, before he could even taste it. “I grilled it up for you plain, since I haven’t had the chance to scout out what kinds of herbs you have growing here. I almost got distracted by those ruins around the mountain; it looks like an old human settlement. Did you always live here alone?”

“No,” Mikleo said simply. He had always wondered about the ruins, himself, but Sorey was clearly talking about him living with humans. As if he would care about his mother.

Sorey nodded thoughtfully. “I’d love to study them more to see what civilization used to be here…while I was looking for you I found your book stash; have you read all of those? There are so many rare books there that I’ve been dying to read for so long, and it’s just great that you’re so well-read, and…”

Mikleo was finished with the skewer, and his stomach rumbled for more. Sorey’s proximity, the scent of his delicious flesh and fragrant blood, was spiking his hunger dangerously. He had been warmed by the morning sun, and his skin was already tanning into a burnished gold. Despite Mikleo’s ravenous display of appetite and the naked hunger in his eyes as he stared at Sorey, Sorey just gave a delighted little laugh.

“The chef is glad that it was to your taste,” Sorey said, and gave a little bow from his waist. He winced as the motion disturbed his wound, and his groan of pain jolted Mikleo out of his trance. He rolled his eyes irritably and set the skewer down.

“I told you that you’re not fit to be wandering around in your state,” Mikleo scolded him. Exasperated, he got up to walk over where he had been preparing more herb salve for Sorey earlier in the morning. Honestly, tending to guests was such a hassle. “Lay down on the cushions and I’ll change your bandages.”

It was suitable repayment for Sorey providing him with a meal. It was not because Mikleo was concerned about him.

The salve needed more time to sit, but with how Sorey had been straining himself, he needed to have his wound treated now. His mother had taught him the basics of herbal medicine, and how to prepare and wash bandages made from salvaged cloth. It was far easier to keep a wound clean and allow it to heal with appropriate tools, and those appropriate tools were much easier to apply and keep in place when one was in a smaller form. He gathered up some of the fragrant medicine and some fresh bandages, and stood up with effort. Sorey was giving him a concerned look as he walked over with his supplies. When he knelt next to him and began to unravel the old bandages, Sorey reached out and brushed his fingers against the bandage on Mikleo’s leg.

“You could extend that same kindness to yourself, too,” Sorey said quietly.

“It’s not a kindness,” Mikleo snapped back.

“A courtesy, then.”

Mikleo snorted through his nose, and gently applied the herb mixture to Sorey’s wound. The wound was ragged and the bandages were spotted with red, and the sight twisted Mikleo’s heart just as the scent roused Mikleo’s appetite. Mikleo could scold him all he wanted about straining himself, about not being cautious, about not listening to him, but the fact of the matter was that it was Mikleo’s fault Sorey was wounded to begin with. It was Mikleo’s fault that Sorey was even here. He couldn’t truly expect him to make a sea journey wounded and confused in a half-wrecked craft, just as he shouldn’t expect him to stay put in a damp, dark cave with nothing to do but cower alone in fear and pain. Humans were social creatures. Even a dragon would surely be suitable company and comfort in such dire straits.

Perhaps Mikleo was just prolonging the inevitable – perhaps it would be kinder for him to snap up Sorey in his jaws instead of letting him waste away in an island cage. It was bad manners to play with one’s food.

Mikleo re-wrapped Sorey’s torso. Before he could clamber to his feet to put his things away, Sorey’s hand came to grasp at his wrist. Mikleo’s eyes met his, and – it was that stare again. Mikleo was a fish trembling in the corals.

“Please,” Sorey said softly. “Can I help you with your leg?”

Mikleo couldn’t bring himself to move, except to shiver at the feeling of Sorey’s fingers brushing up his calf, up the back of his knee, up to where the bandages were stained red at his thigh. Mikleo swallowed hard, and remained perfectly still as he allowed Sorey to unwrap and expose that wounded, vulnerable part of him. His hands were so, so gentle. Gentle enough that Mikleo couldn’t stand to watch the tenderness in them, or on Sorey’s face. Mikleo looked away; out the cave opening, across the glittering waters.

It was just another courtesy that Mikleo would have to repay.

 

\--

 

Rose was having a rough day.

She had figured today was going to be pretty stressful – after all, it was the day she was marrying into the royal family in front of a hundred thousand eyes. She’d taken precautions to make sure things went as smoothly as they could: she’d eaten a light, healthy breakfast instead of wolfing down a plate of ham and chasing it with a pot of black tar coffee. She’d delegated management responsibilities to one of her assistants for the day so she could get to her styling appointment on schedule, instead of spending the whole morning hunched over shipping reports. Her custom-fitted chainmail tunic came in just on time, so she could wear it underneath her ridiculous ceremonial duds to prevent some of the assassination attempts that the nobles were surely cooking up for her. 

Honestly, jealousy wasn’t a good look on them.

The day had been clear, but absolutely freezing. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to hold this wedding on the same day as the freaking Dragon Festival? The winter solstice wasn't exactly known for its temperate weather. What happened to being a June bride?

“Oh, but you're a descendant of the legendary dragon slayer, Rose! Hold the wedding on the day of the festival and the people will talk and sing of it for years to come! The long lost lovers, reunited at last!”

Etcetera and so on. Rose didn’t care that much about her ancestry, and was pretty damn sure that Prince Sorey wasn’t any long lost lover of hers. (Did she even have any of those in general? She’d nailed some noble wives and daughters at parties and had to make escapes off balconies and out windows, if that counted. Some of them still sent her lovesick poetry.) But, appealing to the common people and getting their support was important – a heroic ancestry did not equal blue blood, so the nobles certainly weren’t on her side even before she soundly spanked them in the suitor game. Alas! She would never know the warm friendship of a bunch of backstabbing, pompous assholes who’d never done a day of work in their lives. She would dry her tears on her many, many lucrative shipping contracts, while sitting atop a pile of gold coins, with the royal crown atop her head. And her new husband would be sitting over in a corner reading in this metaphor, she supposed. Like he always was.

Prince Sorey was a good kid. Sheltered and a nerd, but a good kid with an honest and kind heart. That was part of the reason why Rose had finally decided to throw her hat into the ring of his suitors. She’d tossed around the idea of marrying into a noble house for a while, but the benefits (more business connections) were far outweighed by the drawbacks (nobles, in general). She’d all but abandoned the idea and was about to settle for remaining fabulously wealthy and accomplished sans fancy gentry title, but then she’d met Prince Sorey in person.

He’d ordered some weird rare books from some far-off country through her shipping company, and as luck would have it, the damn shipment got lost in that nasty region just outside of the kingdom’s maritime border. She was always losing product there to the unpredictable current, the terrible visibility, and the goddamn pirates that prowled around looking for wrecked craft to plunder. But what a way to make an impression – you didn’t just write a form letter to the royal family when you lost their stuff. Rose trekked off to the palace herself that day to make an apology in person, and fully expected a spoiled royal brat throwing a tantrum at the news...but Prince Sorey had accepted the information with grace, though not without a little disappointment. They then spent a surprisingly pleasant afternoon together, with Sorey first peppering Rose with a million questions about her many travels, and then begging to be taken down to the shipping docks to see all the product that did make it through, and then trotting back to the palace loaded down with all the latest new releases that came in on the general ship – trashy pulp romances and scientific journals both got tucked away in his bag. Rose watched him ride away, the bag of coin he insisted she take as payment heavy in her pocket. 

She wasn’t a liar. She wasn’t going to pretend to be some legendary hero: riding in astride a white stallion to rescue this innocent prince from a wretched engagement to a wicked lord. But Rose was pretty sure she had a decent deal for Sorey, one that would benefit them both. 

And that deal kind of went off the rails when a dragon swooped in to steal Sorey right off his wedding gondola.

Rose managed to nail that sucker right in its scaly leg with an arrow, but it unfortunately didn’t drop Sorey. Before she could properly process what was happening, she was running full-tilt down to the docks to commandeer a ship. A small one, a fast one; one she could pilot on her own, one that she could push to the limits of its speed without having to worry about the safety of any crew. Before she shoved off, she had a whistle from shore; she whirled around to look, and just narrowly managed to catch the sword that her second-in-command, Eguille, tossed to her. Eguille whistled again, and tossed her a quiver of arrows and a bow as well, and a bag of provisions.

Rose gave him a cheeky wave and grin.

“Sorry to run out on the party! I have a prince to save.”

“I’ll hold down the fort,” Eguille promised. “Just come back in one piece!”

That was three days ago. And Rose was getting nowhere fast.

That latent ancestor bullcrap could stand to come out and give her a hand aaaaany time now.

Rose sighed in frustration, and sat back again to weigh her options. She knew that the currents out here were infamously deadly, and that there was an ever-present fog that never lifted…save for the day that her ancestor had killed the dragon. Allegedly, anyway. Rose wasn’t inexperienced with sailing; she’d worked her ships with the rest of her crew back when her business was just starting to take off. She’d even navigated through these same currents and this same fog before. Maybe that had given her a false sense of security when taking off on her own to chase down Sorey and his flying lizard kidnapper on nothing but a vague sense of what direction they’d been heading in.

She was starting to drift off to sleep again. It was so hard to judge the passing of night and day, and she was so exhausted. There hadn’t been a breeze in at least a day, and she’d been having to go at it by oar. Maybe it was finally time to throw down the anchor and get another hour or two of sleep.

But…

Rose felt a shiver run down her spine, as if someone was gently stroking her back. She swallowed hard, and shook it off. It was just the fog. Thick as pea soup, it was. Thick as pea soup and twice as slimy. No surprise that she’d start seeing things, start feeling things that weren’t there. No surprises there.

“ _…darling…sweet darling…_ ”

No surprises that she was hearing things that weren’t there either, yep, that wasn’t a surprise, with this pea soup fog and the lack of sleep and the hard tack provisions and the sea water, maybe she’d accidentally drank some of the sea water. Pea soup thick sea water –

“… _red locks…surely it’s you, you’ve come back to me_ …”

“PEA SOUP THICK FOG HEARING THINGS TIME TO WEIGH THAT ANCHOR RISE AND SHINE!” shrieked Rose.

She whirled around to yank the sails into place, to grab her oars and fuel the sails with her own frantic puffs of breath to hightail it out of—

There was another person in the boat. A girl about Rose’s age, dressed in an old-style bridal gown; so similar to the one Sorey had been wearing before he was snatched away – a strange heraldry was painstakingly embroidered with tiny, expert stitching. Her hair was long and flaxen blonde, loose and floating about her shoulders in a nonexistent breeze. The fog did little to dull the shine of her eyes, green as a new spring leaf. She was…stunning, honestly. It was almost enough for Rose to miss for a few seconds that she was almost transparent. 

The girl smiled at Rose, and reached out to brush her cheek with cold, ghostly fingers.

“My brave hero. You’ve come back to me,” the ghost girl tenderly whispered.

Rose shrieked so loud and long that it was completely the passing pirate ship’s fault that they crashed into her. She really was pretty difficult to miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, click that kudos button if you think being haunted is...kinda hot.


	3. Scheherazade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey is a doting husband, devoted tutor, and fucks like a tiger in bed.

\--

 

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” spoke a dangerously low voice from the entrance to the nest.

Sorey jumped a little, but turned to face Mikleo, giving him a crooked little smile. “Sorry. I just wanted to make the nest a little more home-y…”

Maybe it was different for dragons, but a bunch of blankets alone did not a suitable nest make. Sorey knew that being up and about right after Mikleo took the time to patch him up again would test Mikleo’s patience, but Sorey couldn’t sit idly by while Mikleo sat up here alone and bored, staring at the gray cave walls. He would need entertainment (thus, the books that Sorey hauled up from the stash he’d found earlier), and pretty things to look at (if only Sorey could have found a mirror!), and toys and supplies for the baby.

Also, Sorey was lonely, and achey, and bored, and felt that every moment spent without Mikleo in his sights was a moment wasted. So there was that too. He knew Mikleo didn’t want him up here – he seemed to not want to see him at all, honestly – and that was fine, but Sorey wanted to make sure Mikleo was comfortable. Comfortable and happy.

Sorey opened the satchel that he’d found in the treasure stash, and produced a bouquet of fresh-picked wildflowers. He presented them to Mikleo.

“Here. I picked them especially for you.”

The snowy white flowers reminded him of Mikleo’s hair; the blue flowers, with their long silky petals, reminded him of Mikleo’s elegant feathered wings. Mikleo took the bouquet from him hesitantly, and examined it with a small frown. The golden flowers were symbolic of their wedded bond, and the –

Mikleo took one of the flowers and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed on it thoughtfully as Sorey stared at him.

“…thank you,” said Mikleo.

 …well. Sorey had intended on drying the flowers and hanging them around the nest for some scent and color, but if that was what Mikleo’s body was telling him that the baby needed, that was how things were going to be. Sorey would harvest the whole wildflower field for him.

Mikleo nibbled on the petals of another flower as he slanted a sideways look at Sorey. Sorey’s heart flipped with the lovesick feeling that he was becoming so familiar with. Mikleo kept a stony silence as he stared at Sorey; the wind blew through the cave openings, bringing with it the sound and scent of the sea. There was only one thing to do, and that was babble aimlessly to break the silence.

“So, this book here--” Sorey said, bending to scoop up a book he’d been paging through when Mikleo had caught him. He only winced a little at the motion. That salve Mikleo made for him was potent, and he was healing fast. “—I’ve been wanting to read for ages. It’s about the influence of native religions’ dragon-worship on ancient architecture. I’d bet anything that it’d tell us all about the ruins on this island. Have you read it? What did you think of it?”

Mikleo couldn’t quite meet Sorey’s eyes, now, despite staring him down so confidently just a few moments before. He twirled a flower between his fingers nervously.

“…I…read some. Read what I could. And looked at the pictures.”

Sorey processed this statement, confused. Then Sorey processed this statement further, and realization dawned on him. Realization and glorious light, and a purpose, straight from the heavens themselves.

Sorey could…he could, he could teach Mikleo to – to –

Sorey could teach Mikleo how to read. The very idea brought more redness to Sorey’s cheeks than the memory of them making their baby. It was a more intimate act than Sorey could have ever managed to dream up. He didn’t know how to handle the emotions coursing through every cell of his body, and he must have been making kind of a weird face because of that, because Mikleo was scowling at him with a flush dusted across his pale cheeks.

“What?” Mikleo snapped at him. “I can read well enough. I’d like to see you do better with no teacher--”

Sorey very nearly jumped up and down in place in excitement. He grabbed Mikleo’s hand in both of his own, and, unable to control himself, pressed a fervent kiss to his knuckles. His affections thus shown, it was now time for him to announce his intentions. Sorey tried to get enough breath in his lungs.

“I’ll teach you,” Sorey said. “Please.”

Mikleo’s eyes snapped from his ensnared hand to Sorey’s pleading eyes, then slowly trailed over to the pile of books stacked near the blanket nest. Sorey could see longing there, in that gaze – a yearning desire to devour the knowledge that had sat there for years, unknowable. Sorey recognized the look as one that he had worn himself, many a time.

“…what would you want from me in return?” Mikleo murmured after a long moment.

Honestly, the very opportunity to teach Mikleo to read was reward enough – it would be a priceless treasure that Sorey would carry close to his heart, from now until the very grave itself. That kind of sentiment might put Mikleo off, though. Most of the things Sorey could think of were the same.

“…let me visit the nest,” Sorey settled on. “I’d like permission, so you don’t keep glaring at me when you find me up here.”

Mikleo shifted uncomfortably at the request.

“…is your room not to your liking?” he asked.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Sorey assured him. Perfectly fine, with plenty of soft blankets and pillows, and safely tucked away such that no rampaging dragons could reach him. Perfectly fine, and perfectly, desperately lonely; and so far away from Mikleo that Sorey couldn’t get a wink of sleep, kept awake with longing that ached just as keenly as the pain shooting from his side. “I don’t have to sleep up here if you don’t want me to. But if I’m going to be teaching you to read, we’ll need a place with lots of light.”

The nights alone would still be torture, but if he could spend the days with Mikleo, nestled up in the blankets with the sound and smell of the sea on the breeze…well, that would get him through until daybreak.

Mikleo sighed deeply, and took his hand from Sorey’s grip. He sat down heavily on the blankets, and looked at Sorey expectantly.

“…well? We’ve got a few hours of daylight left.”

Sorey felt ready to die from joy. He scurried over to sit next to Mikleo, and grabbed a book.

“So, I can start by reading to you, and you can just stop me when you see words you don’t recognize…”

 

\--

 

_I don’t have to sleep up here if you don’t want me to_ , he had said. Mikleo rolled his eyes. He rested his chin on his hand as he watched Sorey sleep, curled up in the nest’s colorful blankets.

He supposed it was a small annoyance to live with, in exchange for all Sorey had given him today. The sun had long since set, but Mikleo wasn’t able to hide how badly he wanted to continue their lessons, continue hearing Sorey read to him – continue to hear him reveal the secrets that the books had hidden from him for so long. When Sorey had started to struggle to read in the wan light of the moon, Mikleo sprang up to fetch the lantern he used for his own late-night reading. The lantern sprang to life, and cast golden light on Sorey’s features.

Sorey smiled at him, and beckoned him back to the nest. Mikleo felt as drawn to that light as the moths that beat their wings against the lantern’s cracked glass.

They had read for hours, and finally, Sorey had stopped mid-sentence. Mikleo had waited for him to read him the next phrase, the next paragraph, and looked up at him expectantly – but of course, he’d fallen asleep. His cheek was mushed against the pages of the book. Mikleo felt…odd, at the sight. He was almost hesitant to remove the book from pillowing Sorey’s face.

Sorey’s hair was everywhere in the nest. It was so _long_ , and Mikleo couldn’t help but marvel. Mikleo kept his own hair cropped short; it was simply more practical, and made it so he didn’t have to concern himself with grooming it while in his smaller form. But Sorey’s…Sorey had explained to him while they read that he was a prince of his kingdom – he said it almost as an afterthought, referring to the palace as his “family home” before excitedly starting in on the history of the underground waterways that sprawled beneath the marbled floors. Mikleo was somewhat familiar with human social customs, of the concept of a “prince” in contrast to a “peasant”. Sorey’s jeweled and embroidered robes were a common sight on illustrations of human royalty in Mikleo’s books – surely he should have suspected Sorey was an abnormal quarry in more ways than one. Perhaps his voluminous mane of hair was a symbol of such a station along the same lines; a symbol that he was above having to steal through trees and bushes to catch his evening meals. Mikleo would have scoffed at such a frivolous display and the weakness it implied, if Sorey hadn’t already proven to him that he was capable of hunting, of surviving.

Sorey’s hair swirled into the embroidered patterns on the silk blankets, and gently curled around his sleeping face. So peaceful, as if he wasn’t lying unguarded and completely defenseless in a dragon’s lair. Mikleo wondered how he’d managed to stay alive this long. Unable to help himself, Mikleo reached out and gave Sorey’s hair a curious stroke, allowing the locks to slide between his fingers. The golden highlights seemed to glow in the lamplight, giving him the look of a sleeping lion. Curious little lioncel prince, fearless of the peril he was in.

Mikleo tried to calm the dark voice in his head that reminded him there was peril to had on all sides. A kidnapped prince would surely have an army of soldiers out to retrieve him. This island of his was an impenetrable stronghold – no creature, human or not, could find it or land upon its shores unless there was someone already on the island to guide them to it with love in their beating heart, like a lighthouse beacon. Mikleo had no love for anyone in the outside world and would serve as no lighthouse, no firey pharos in the night. But Sorey surely had people he loved, and that love would guide them right to Mikleo’s doorstep. By keeping Sorey here, by keeping him alive, he was playing a dangerous game. He pressed his hand to his stomach uneasily. These puppies of his would not grow up parentless. This he would ensure, no matter what the cost.

Mikleo had gorged himself in his dragon form earlier this afternoon; flying out to sea and devouring the fish that he snatched up in his claws and jaws. It had soothed his hunger, but had upset his wounds. His leg throbbed with pain no matter how he tried to lay down – he wasn’t sure how he was going to make his way down through the caves to find a comfortable place to sleep. The idea of waking Sorey, of forcing him back down to his own room where he would be safe and sound, somehow failed to appeal to Mikleo as a solution. He, too, was wounded. And he looked so peaceful.

Sorey was watching him, now, with half-lidded eyes. Mikleo froze in place, his hand halfway through another stroke to Sorey’s hair.

Sorey did not say a word. He did not stop looking at him with those eyes. Slowly, deliberately, like a prowling cat, he moved until he was leaning over Mikleo; pinning him into the blankets. His hair fell all around them like a veil, dimming the wan lantern light. Mikleo was paralyzed. What should a man-eating dragon do when confronted with a man-eating lion?

Sorey brought his fingers to Mikleo’s lips, and stroked his thumb across them. Mikleo should have bitten it off. He should have shoved him away and snapped his neck and swallowed him in one gulp. Should have made a nest from that soft hair and slept dreamlessly, undisturbed, beaconless, until the eggs hatched.

Instead, he allowed Sorey to bend down, and press his lips to Mikleo’s.

Sorey was so cruel – dragons, at least, devoured their prey swiftly. Sorey lowered his wounded body onto Mikleo’s slowly, moved his lips against Mikleo’s slowly, rubbed their hips together slowly. Sorey’s hand caressed Mikleo’s cheek and neck as they kissed, the pads of his fingers lingering where Mikleo’s scales glinted on his shoulders.

“ _Sorey_ ,” Mikleo gasped out. He shivered, and his eyes slammed shut as Sorey’s hand drifted further down his chest. “We don’t—we don’t need to mate again, I’m already--”

Sorey’s hand paused in its exploration. Mikleo’s hunger spiked awfully, and suddenly.

“We don’t have to,” Sorey murmured. “But I want to make you feel good. Didn’t it feel good for you on our wedding night?”

Mikleo had barely been able to feel anything that night; he had been so thoroughly lost in the fog of his heat, driven to frenzy by the scent of a human mate so close nearby. The boiling need had overtaken every sense available to him – had dulled the pain in his leg just as it dulled the feeling of Sorey’s cock inside of him. The warmth of Sorey’s seed had restored his sanity enough to feel the aftershocks of their mating, and, well…well. The aftershocks were pleasant enough.

“It was…acceptable,” Mikleo finally replied, his cheeks red.

Sorey’s brow creased with concern, and he removed his hand from Mikleo’s chest entirely. Mikleo’s frustration mounted. First Sorey wanted it, now he didn’t. It was no surprise that most dragons avoided this frustrating dance.

“I’m sorry,” Sorey said quietly. “We don’t have to.”

Starving as he was, Mikleo would not stand for being passed up as a meal. He whimpered as Sorey tried to pick himself up and off of him, and grasped around his strong, broad shoulders desperately. He pitched forward, bumping their foreheads together and only narrowly avoiding jabbing Sorey in the eye with his horns. He tilted his chin up, bared his neck, tried to spread his legs wide with Sorey’s weight bearing down on him. Even if the – even if the point of mating had been achieved, maybe it wouldn’t be so unthinkable to do it again.

“Okay, okay,” Sorey said, laughing in delight. Mikleo didn’t know what was so funny, but the sound sent thrills through his heart. “We can, we can.”

It was difficult getting undressed and into a position that was comfortable for the both of them – Sorey with his wounded side, and Mikleo with his wounded leg. Finally, Sorey settled them on their good sides in the blanket; chest to back, pressed flush together. Mikleo shivered at the proximity, and stretched out long and lean, pushing himself back against Sorey. He moved his tail to the side, curling it back and around Sorey’s waist to bring him closer, closer. Sorey’s arms wrapped around him tightly, returning the embrace with earnest eagerness.

Sorey’s cock slipped between his thighs, and Mikleo trembled again at the low purr that rumbled from Sorey’s throat. He rubbed himself there, the slickness making the glide of his cock easy and smooth against Mikleo’s skin.

“You’re all wet,” Sorey moaned. His lips brushed Mikleo’s neck as he spoke.

Mikleo made a frustrated noise and pushed his hips back against Sorey’s insistently. If Sorey had enough time to make obvious statements like that, he had enough time to mate with him properly – _properly_ , not with these maddening half-measures of Sorey’s cock pressing into that sensitive slip of skin. Sorey kissed the back of his neck once, twice; then spared one arm from holding Mikleo to use it to guide his cock into place, and then – _ah_.

Mikleo’s back arched into the feeling of Sorey’s cock sliding deeper and deeper into him. Sorey’s breath was so hot against his nape; hot and damp and frustratingly tender. Mikleo blindly reached back with one arm, groping for the back of Sorey’s head to push his mouth to his skin more firmly. Mikleo’s tail tightened around Sorey’s middle with the movement. Sorey grunted as the motion seated him fully inside Mikleo, and he opened his mouth wide to – those were his teeth, against Mikleo’s neck. Teeth against his vulnerable neck. Mikleo’s instincts screamed at him to throw this attacker off and show him the sharpness of his own jaws, but these instincts were at war with Mikleo’s other, even baser instincts that relished in the treatment. Sorey scraped his teeth against the scales on his neck, pulled his hips back, and pushed them forward again. And again, and again, and again.

Mikleo’s head lolled forward. Every thrust rocked him to his very core. Sorey slid in and out of him so easily it was embarrassing – though what was more embarrassing was the string of nonsense coming out of Sorey’s mouth as he pounded gracelessly into Mikleo.

“So beautiful, Mikleo, ah—my bride, my heart, you’re so good, ngh—I’m going to--”

It wasn’t like their first, frantic time on the mating altar. Mikleo clutched his hands into the silks of the blankets that swirled around them. Strands of Sorey’s hair tangled between his fingers as he balled his hands into fists to brace himself against Sorey’s urgent thrusts. Instead of being driven into a frenzy by the burning fire inside him, Mikleo felt anchored into place, almost alarmingly aware of everything around him. Sorey’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once: stroking up and down his thigh and sides, groping at his backside and belly and chest, rubbing and pinching at his nipples. As a counterpoint, Sorey’s mouth refused to move from Mikleo’s neck; murmuring that embarrassing stuff against his skin, branding him with his words.

Sorey’s cock bumped and rubbed against something delicious inside of him, and Mikleo felt a roar threaten to tear from his lungs. He bit it back before it made it out, and shoved one hand between his legs to rut into his own fist for relief. Sorey made a soothing noise and placed a hand over Mikleo’s.

“Shh, let me, let me…”

Their fingers entwined over Mikleo’s cock. Sorey’s hand was so much larger than his own; Sorey’s body covered him whole as he ground his cock against that spot inside of him, making Mikleo’s eyes roll back into his head. A dragon was a peerless hunter. A dragon was the lord of the skies and sea and land. It should have been more unpleasant to feel so small beneath him. But instead, it felt –

It felt—

The roar tore out of Mikleo’s lungs in earnest, then, and Mikleo released into Sorey’s palm in a flurry of shivers. Sorey’s hips continued to roll into him as pleasure washed over Mikleo in waves; Sorey’s hand did not still in its stroking, smearing the evidence of Mikleo’s release on the hyper-sensitive skin of Mikleo’s cock.

Mikleo felt as though he had been knocked out of the air, and had washed up on some distant shore. He emerged from the shallows with effort, and craned his neck to look over his shoulder at Sorey’s face. His straining, slack-jawed expression planted a seed of some strange, incomprehensible tenderness in Mikleo’s chest.

“Sorey,” Mikleo murmured. His body was still being rocked by Sorey’s needy thrusts.

“ _Mikleo_ ,” Sorey sobbed. “I can’t – ngh! Mikleo, Mikleo--”

Sorey sank into him once more, and gave a bone-deep shudder. Mikleo’s eyes slid shut, and another wave of pleasure washed over him at the feeling of Sorey’s seed hot inside him. Sorey’s arms curled around him tightly, and he did not seem eager to uproot himself from Mikleo’s body. Mikleo was too awash in pleasure and warmth to argue against it.

He wriggled his hips experimentally, and heard Sorey give a muted grunt of pleasure.

“Careful,” Sorey murmured. He stroked one hand down Mikleo’s chest, stopping to circle his thumb around Mikleo’s nipple. “Unless my bride is hungry for more?”

…Mikleo did not feel the hunger that gnawed at his stomach so keenly, now. It was as though he had partaken of a large, decadent feast, and his stomach was content to rest and settle. Mikleo hummed in thought, and pried himself free of Sorey, with effort. Sorey whined so pathetically as he did so, and that seed of tenderness shivered inside Mikleo’s heart. He unwound his tail from Sorey’s waist with a gnawing dread in his chest – however, he found Sorey’s wound largely undisturbed by the squeeze of his tail and their…general efforts. Sorey covered Mikleo’s hand with his own once more – Mikleo had hardly realized he’d reached out to touch the bandages that wound around his midsection.

“I’m fine,” Sorey promised. He reached out in turn. “And your lovely leg?”

“Is also fine,” Mikleo replied as he swatted at Sorey’s hand. “But thank you. That was…pleasant enough.”

Sorey beamed at him, and hefted himself up and onto Mikleo, sinking them both into the blanket nest. He leaned in to rest their foreheads together, hardly paying any mind to the possibility of Mikleo’s horns poking his eyes out on the approach.

“I will serve my bride any time he requires it,” Sorey declared, sealing this promise with a kiss to Mikleo’s knuckles.

“You’re not required to do a thing,” Mikleo said, simply. “You impregnated me very swiftly and readily in our initial encounter. Your seed is very potent.”

Mikleo thought he was paying Sorey a compliment, but instead of thanking him, Sorey turned bright red and seemed to choke on air. Mikleo’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Sorey?”

Sorey finally took a deep breath to get air back into his lungs. He rested his head against Mikleo’s once more, and regarded him frankly.

“Mikleo. I won’t ever touch you again if you don’t want me to. I’ll help you with chores and the baby and will be your tutor no matter what. Please, just tell me.”

Even the very implication of having Sorey’s cock in him again made Mikleo’s toes curl with pleasure. Mikleo wet his lips before he spoke.

“…your seed helped with my hunger pangs tonight,” Mikleo admitted, after thinking a moment. “I…suppose you could help with that. If you insist on staying.”

“Mikleo,” Sorey said firmly. “I’ll ask once more. Do you like me touching you?”

Mikleo took a deep breath, and leaned up to gently butt his forehead against Sorey’s.

“I do,” he murmured.

Sorey smiled back at him, and returned the head-butt in turn.

“Then, my bride, I am at your service as long as I live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know how to taste the sea, read the wind, and fuck the moon.


	4. The Ends of the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey and Mikleo's relationship grows, and Rose makes a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any of you who've become interested in watching the movie we based these AUs on, I feel inclined to warn you that there's no mpreg in it. Regrettably.

\--

 

“My love!” Sorey announced. He moved in a colorful swirl of robes and a jangling confusion of jewelry, and twirled his way over to where Mikleo was reviewing his lessons. “Before, I was naught but the thief of Baghdad, but now, I am a prince! Follow me, darling; follow me to the ends of the earth--”

Mikleo plucked his hand from Sorey’s grip before Sorey could kiss his way up his arm. He was a dedicated scholar, and was already progressing quickly after only a handful of lessons.

“Your recitation could use some work,” he said. “And must you rifle through my clothing collection?”

“That I must.” Sorey adjusted the jeweled turban atop his head – it wasn’t as extravagant as his wedding headdress, but it was a fitting piece for seduction. He lounged across the silk bedding, chin on his hand. He hoisted one leg up into air alluringly. “It’s important for your studies. Don’t you think acting out the books helped you?”

Mikleo flushed and looked away. His long lovely fingers drummed on the spine of the book he was reading.

“It was…marginally useful. I could have done well enough without, considering.”

Sorey had gotten hold of his fingers again. He had been bewitched by those drumming digits, and he lavished kisses upon each one as he continued to entreat him.

“Follow me, darling; follow me now to the ends of the earth…”

Perhaps it was simply redundant to ask. These isles, with their mists and towering ruined spires, could pass for the ends of the earth, Sorey supposed. They were remote, secluded; a haven, a heaven that Sorey’s heart had always searched for. And the company was simply sublime.

“Honestly. If you’re so attached to headwear, I have less ostentatious pieces.”

As regards headwear, Mikleo was, in fact, referring to his collection of racy underwear, which he seemed to think were hats with handy horn-holes. This was a charming misunderstanding indeed, and one that filled Sorey’s heart to the brim. But seeing Mikleo wearing racy underwear on his head made Sorey long to see him wearing it in a more traditional fashion. Sorey had tried to suggest this, but Mikleo had just looked at him like he was the insane one. _What_ _purpose do they serve under my trousers? They’d simply get in the way_ , Mikleo said. _They frame my horns quite well, thank you._

Ah, but thinking of Mikleo wearing those panties on his lovely legs had gotten Sorey into a certain mood.

“Mikleo,” Sorey purred. He sat up and pinned Mikleo into the blankets. Mikleo arched an eyebrow at him, but made no move to throw him off. “I was wondering. Maybe we should make really, really sure that you’re definitely pregnant, a few more times--”

Mikleo grumbled and squirmed away from Sorey just enough to wiggle into a sitting position, placing Sorey’s head right in his lap. This was a compromise, he supposed. He basked in the heavenly softness of Mikleo’s thighs and the silken trousers under his cheek.

“I was certain immediately that I was with child, when I took you on that altar,” Mikleo said. “Do humans really not know from the start?”

That was something Sorey could not say for certain, not possessing the appropriate parts himself. He leaned up and kissed Mikleo’s tummy in apology. The feather on his turban tickled Mikleo’s skin and made him squeak.

Sorey was a bride-groom, a father-to-be, and a scholar and tutor. Falling derelict in any of these responsibilities would simply not do.

He would serve Mikleo to the ends of the earth and beyond.

“‘Anemone,’” Sorey said.

Mikleo batted at the feather on Sorey’s turban. “Excuse me?”

“For a girl. ‘Anemone’ is a great name, I think.” Sorey sighed dreamily and kissed Mikleo’s stomach again. “Or maybe something a bit more old-fashioned, if you’d prefer. We could look through some of the Ancient Avarost books here and find something you like.”

Mikleo rolled his eyes and returned to his book.

“Quite bold of you to assume my tastes,” Mikleo said. “Take off that hat if you insist on keeping your head on me. The feather tickles.”

Presented with a choice between style and keeping his head on Mikleo’s heavenly thighs, Sorey did the only logical thing. He whipped off his turban, and revealed a second, smaller turban underneath. Mikleo yanked it off his head irritably and tossed it across the room.

“‘Mikleo’ is an Ancient Avarost-era name,” Sorey noted, now bereft of headwear. “Did you pick it out yourself?”

At that, Mikleo went quiet. Sorey’s heart had been soaring just a few moments ago, but now, it dropped out of his chest – he’d clearly stumbled upon a sensitive subject. There was a secret, shameful part of him that thrilled at the idea of learning more about Mikleo. But he would not compromise this beautiful afternoon and their togetherness to satisfy his gluttony for knowledge; for more of Mikleo. Sorey covered Mikleo’s hand in his own, gently.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me--”

“My mother named me,” Mikleo said.

Now, Sorey was a well-read young man, and quite knowledgeable about his kingdom’s history. He was aware of the legends of the heroic dragon-slayer that avenged the sacrificed brides. Mikleo’s tension, and the grief written in the line of his mouth, told him the rest. Sorey was able to put the pieces together, but that knowledge did not tell him how to react to such a dreadful conclusion. Silence seemed to stretch out for eternity, and Sorey felt more apart than he had from Mikleo than he had been since they met. He had brought Mikleo heartache, and this was, perhaps, even more dreadful.

“What was she like?” Sorey asked, after a long moment.

Mikleo stared at the pages of his book.

“Caring, and strong,” he said quietly. “Devoted. And that is what led to her death.”

Sorey couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to lose someone so dear, and to such a violent end. Sorey continued to hold Mikleo’s hand, and did not look away from him. He had prodded Mikleo into this conversation, and he owed it to him to hear it out to the end.

“She always insisted we had a duty to protect your kingdom,” Mikleo continued. “You provided us with a yearly sacrifice, and in return, we were obliged to maintain the veil of mist. Had she simply left your kingdom to be savaged and overthrown by invaders, she would still be alive.

“She named me and raised me and cared for me. And protected your kingdom, until your hero killed her. I read the books your kingdom wrote on the ‘legend,’ saw the illustrations,” Mikleo laughed hollowly. “The artists never did get her right. Honestly, leather wings. Do they think we are bats?”

Mikleo’s lovely feathered wings were the dark blue of twilight, and seemed to shimmer in the sun, like light on water. The idea that people had been so misinformed about the true nature of things for so long: of the kingdom’s history, of Mikleo’s mother’s service, of the beauty of dragons…it rankled Sorey. Sorey reached out to stroke the feathers of Mikleo’s wings with his knuckles.

“Mikleo. We can tell everyone what really happened,” Sorey said. The idea had taken hold, and he sat up, drawing Mikleo to sit on his lap as he spoke aloud. “We can – we can write our own book, and get it published. People will be happy to know the truth, we just have to tell them.”

Sorey’s mind raced. Once the baby was born and they were settled on the island, he could get a letter to his parents, somehow. He’d tell them about his love for Mikleo, tell them that he was safe and sound and a proud husband and father. He’d tell them to commission the finest artist in the kingdom to draw for their book, and then he’d craft some epic poetry for the introduction, and help Mikleo with his handwriting, and Rose would surely help them publish and distribute the final product, and—

Mikleo shook his head and gave a rueful little smile. He rested his head against Sorey’s shoulder, and his tail curled around Sorey’s leg; keeping him there, close.

“What I know is this: humans like a good story more than they like the truth.”

 

\--

 

Were Rose in a better state of mind, she likely would have been more interested in her surroundings. It was a pirate ship, after all, that sank her boat and dragged her out of the water, and Rose was a merchant by trade who had lost her fair share of shipments to pirate activity. It was a golden opportunity to gather intel on their movements in the area, or to do some swashbuckling of her own and commandeer the ship to continue her search for the prince.  

However, as it was, there was a ghost haunting her. Rose feared no dragon, no high-seas criminal, no dangerous business venture. Rose did fear ghosts. Real bad.

“SALT! GIVE ME A BELL AND A BOOK AND A CANDLE AND SALT!” screamed Rose. She thrashed in the grip of her captors desperately, trying to get loose.

“Swallowed too much seawater?” asked the woman pirate that appeared to be the crew’s leader. “Only a rude guest starts making demands the moment they step in the door.”

The woman’s golden eyes were like a falcon’s, predatory and fierce, large and lovely. Her jet black hair was in a braid that trailed down her back; its length rivalling Sorey’s. Her clothing did little to hide her impressive figure, in the sense that there was little hiding of it going on. Rose had heard of pirate captains that lit their own beards aflame to terrify their victims during raids, so maybe the ensemble was meant to distract or unnerve her captives. Maybe she just liked feeling the fresh sea breeze on her nethers. But alas, it was not a time to be thinking about ladies’ nethers, and that was a sentiment that broke Rose’s heart. This haunting thing was very inconvenient indeed.

The ghost hovered in Rose’s field of vision, trying to catch her eye. No one but Rose appeared to be aware of her. “I beg of you, please remain calm!” she cried. “These scoundrels could mean you harm!”

“PISS OFF, GHOST!” howled Rose.

Before Rose could properly land a roundhouse kick to the head of one of the pirates trying to hold her down and make her cunning escape overboard, she felt a gentle little tug to her trouser leg. Shaking like a leaf, she slowly turned her head to look, expecting another terrible specter bent on dragging her to the depths of hell itself.

Instead, she saw a tiny little cloaked boy, holding out his fist for Rose.

“Phi,” the woman pirate asked, low and dangerous. “What are you doing?”

The cloaked boy turned to look at the woman, confusion plain on his face. Underneath the hood of his cloak, Rose could distinctly see the outline of little nubbed horns, and the glint of white scales on his jaw and neck.

“…she asked for salt,” he said quietly. “I went to the kitchen and got some for her.”

Rose did not get where she was today by not taking opportunities as they arose.

“THROW THE SALT AT THE GHOST!” she screamed.

The cloaked boy nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden volume. He blindly flung the contents of his fist in front of him, missing the ghost entirely. Rose dissolved into shrieking, sloppy tears, and went slack in the hold of her captors.

“Phi. Go back to Eizen and the pups,” said the woman pirate.

The boy, Phi, twiddled his fingers and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“…she asked for a book too,” he said. “Can I bring her that later--”

“ _Phi_ ,” the woman said sternly, pointing her finger firmly to a door on the ship.

Phi sulkily trudged over to the door, and stared balefully at the woman before he shut it behind him.

The woman grumbled, marched over to Rose, and forced her head up to look at her with a hand in her hair.

“I am the captain of this ship, Velvet Crowe,” she said. “And you are going to explain what you were doing in the middle of the sea in a fishing skipper, screaming about ghosts.”

Rose collected herself. She closed her eyes. She desperately tried to ignore the ghost stroking her hair and offering tips on deep breathing exercises. And she began to explain the situation – the disrupted wedding, the dragon, the kidnapped prince.

It seemed naïve and stupid to collaborate with pirates, but Rose was short on allies, and equally short on a vessel to get around now that her fishing skipper was in pieces. A gang of greedy pirates were sure to offer assistance when there was a royal bounty on the head of the dragon. And if they were tempted by the opportunity to ransom off the prince and his fiancée, well, they’d have to deal with the might of Midgand’s navy, and more presently, the business end of Rose’s knife.

However, as Rose finished her tale, Velvet did not seem to be moved. In fact, she simply rose a critical eyebrow.

“So. You held a wedding on the same day as an ancient sacrificial festival. Dressed up this prince just like one of said sacrifices. Sang a song that used to summon a dragon to collect said sacrifices. And were then surprised when a dragon showed up and plucked him away.”

Rose shifted uncomfortably. The ghost girl made a concerned noise.

“She does rather have a point,” said the ghost.

“No she doesn’t! It wasn’t my idea to hold the wedding on that day!” Rose shot back defensively. She then snapped her mouth shut, and hastily looked away from the ghost. If she ignored her, maybe she’d leave.

Velvet waited for Rose to be done talking to no one, and then continued.

“Do you know what dragons do with the humans they capture?” Velvet asked almost casually. “I’m sure it’s not hard to guess. Your prince is probably being digested as we speak.”

Rose knew it was a pretty likely scenario. She just didn’t want to face it. Sorey was so young, and such a good kid.

“I’d say that’s quitter talk, and not something I expect of a pirate of your stature, Miss Crowe,” Rose replied. “Plus, are we just supposed to let that overgrown lizard get away with snatching up whoever it pleases--”

“Dragons have to eat,” Velvet said with a shrug. “Do you think humans need to be revenged on for the meat they hunt, as well?”

Rose was quiet, and could almost take comfort in the ghostly fingers stroking her hair.

“Sorey was— _is_ a good kid, and has a long life ahead of him,” Rose began. “I’ve read the old legends – that the kingdom enjoys prosperity because of that dragon nest. But Sorey didn’t go into this wedding expecting to be made a sacrifice for the kingdom’s greater good. We made an awful, stupid mistake and I just want to make it as right as I can. I want to race to wherever that dragon is hiding and do everything I can as long as there’s the slightest chance Sorey is still alive.”

Rose meant every word. It was quite embarrassing to spill one’s soul to a pirate and her crew. But something in her words seemed to touch Velvet. Her grip on Rose’s hair loosened, and those falcon eyes had a look of grief in them. She stood, and thought.

“That dragon’s roost is magical,” Velvet said. “It moves around as it pleases, whenever it pleases. And you’ll never find it, or make land on it, unless that prince of yours is still alive to guide you to it. Even if he is, unless he actually loves you, we’ll be wandering these waters for months with nothing to show for it.”

Well, that was an issue. Sorey had a kind heart, and was full of love for everyone. But she knew that he didn’t actually _love_ love her. Rose could only pray that the sort of general positive feeling Sorey felt for the world in general was enough of a beacon to guide them to the island in time.

“…but, if we’re not going to be able to take that kind of direct route,” Velvet continued, as if reading Rose’s expression. “We might have an ace or two in the hole. Our ship’s navigator is rather unique, and he might be convinced to help.”

“Bet I can help you twist his arm,” Rose said with a smirk. “You’ll hopefully be impressed by my negotiation skills, Miss Crowe.”

Velvet scoffed and turned to walk away, to the door where the boy Phi went.

“I doubt it, _Miss Sparrowfeather_.”

Hmm. Rose laughed to herself as she was escorted along with Velvet by the crew. So much for travelling incognito.

 

\--

 

It was not as though Sorey did not realize the danger he was in. It was not as though Sorey did not miss the people he’d left behind. It was not as though Sorey intended to hurt them by throwing himself whole into this new life he’d been spirited into.

But, by god, he’d been given a taste of a life that he’d always pined for. Freedom, adventure, and – most notably – love.

There was a waterfall on the island. The water from the cave springs bubbled up and spilled over into an opening in the cave systems, and then spilled over once more, tumbling down the mountainside in a scintillating rainbow spray. The waterfall fed a shallow lake that was perfect for bathing – the mineral spring-water was clear and warm, and the fresh scent of it filled the humid air as it poured from the mountain’s heights.

Sorey would have been impressed enough if this was a natural wonder of the island, but this was a man-made feat. Or rather, a dragon-made one. Over the course of many years, Mikleo – through clever tricks of engineering and good old-fashioned elbow grease – had carefully re-routed the spring-water’s natural path through the mountain’s cave system to create the waterfall, and likewise had dug and filled the lake that it fed. It was a marvel, and Mikleo had only mentioned to him that he’d been the one to make it when Sorey had started going on about his geological theories on how it had formed. He needed something to occupy his mind and hands with, he had said. And, as he rather enjoyed baths, it seemed a worthwhile endeavor.

When Sorey thought he couldn’t fall any more in love with Mikleo, Mikleo just brought out something else to dazzle and fascinate him. Sorey had been so full of questions, so desperate to hear Mikleo explain every detail of his process, that their reading lessons had gotten sorely off-track that evening. Mikleo was such a fast learner – Sorey often found him reviewing the book they’d studied the night before, quietly reading aloud to himself with a fluency and understanding that once had been beyond his grasp; living alone and un-tutored so many years. Sorey suspected he was only being polite, now; listening to Sorey read to him for hours on end. Sorey appreciated Mikleo humoring him. He appreciated Mikleo indulging him.

Mikleo emerged from the lake, spring-water dripping down his pale skin in rivulets that glimmered in the sunlight. His wings glittered as he spread them wide; flicking them dry and sending rainbow mist glinting through the air.

He appreciated Mikleo in general.

Mikleo pushed his hair back from his eyes and squinted over at where Sorey perched on a rock, cross-legged.

“Done washing already?” Mikleo asked dubiously. He walked over to Sorey, gloriously naked, hands on his hips. His tail swish-swished behind him in the water as he went, to compensate for his rapidly changing balance. “I hope you cleaned your wound.”

He already had a tiny bump from their baby, and Sorey was more than a little bit overwhelmed with how cute it was. Serving Mikleo, keeping him sated, was a duty and a pleasure; he felt honored to be allowed to tend to him and touch him.

(Tasting him, however, would have to be worked up to. Mikleo had kicked him in the head out of surprise when Sorey tried to lick into him one evening. Mikleo’s legs were as powerful as they were beautiful. Sorey was glad Mikleo’s wound had healed enough to prove this statement, even though it’d earned him quite the bump on the skull.)

He’d already peppered Mikleo with so many questions about dragon biology, and Mikleo had answered most of them after being plied with kisses. (Perhaps he would have told him without the kisses, but the idea of not kissing Mikleo had not occurred to Sorey.) The egg – or eggs – would be laid after a few weeks, and then Mikleo would tend to them in the nest until they hatched a few months later. The babies – puppies, Mikleo kept calling them (so cute) – would stay in dragon form for a few years, growing big and strong until the protection of their parents. Then they could try their claws at managing a human form.

Egg. Eggs. Plural, potentially. Sorey daydreamed about twins, triplets. A whole little nursery to read bedtime stories to. Sorey would have to think up more baby names. He was compiling a list and planned on presenting it to Mikleo once he had worked on it for a few more weeks. It was a project that required intense and careful consideration.

“I did,” Sorey promised. “I just wanted to get out and dry off my hair.”

Mikleo nodded, and made a considering noise. Sorey’s hair coiled around him on the rock, and very nearly dipped right back into the lake. Weeks of hard work on the island, of gathering and hunting for food, of dragging things from Mikleo’s hoard of shipwreck treasures, had done wonders for Sorey’s spirit and zest for life, but had taken its toll on his hair. It was ragged and uneven and tangled – the sloppy, messy braid he yanked it into in the mornings was a far cry from the elaborate styles his mother and his servants did for him. Sorey had been close, many times, to just chopping it off and being done with it – one could only endure getting oneself tangled up in a bush so many times before one’s patience ran thin – but every time, his hopeless heart stopped him.

He was supposed to wait for his wedding night. He was supposed to cut it off with his spouse in the wedding suite, and burn it with a great deal of drama, and with a bucket of water nearby just in case the drama turned more literal. And then he and his spouse would fall upon each other with passion in their breasts and fire in their loins and hopefully not a fire in the suite and so on. It was supposed to be very meaningful, and a symbol of starting a new life together. He couldn’t just throw that all away just so he didn’t get caught on branches anymore. Maybe he really was too much of a romantic for his own good.

“Do you want me to cut it off for you?” Mikleo asked, casually.

Sorey nearly fell off his perch and back into the lake, wherein his hair would weigh him down and condemn him to a watery grave. Or something. His cheeks burned hot, and his heart thudded hard with desperate excitement. Did Mikleo just ask to—

…but Sorey sighed, and pushed the feeling down. Mikleo didn’t mean it that way. Mikleo did understand the general concept of weddings and marriage, but didn’t know about specific human wedding traditions – that much was obvious, considering their whole relationship was founded on said lack of understanding. He was just trying to be helpful.

“It’s fine,” Sorey assured him. “I think I still look pretty good, don’t you?”

“You look a mess,” Mikleo said bluntly. “But fine. Know that I won’t come help you if you accidentally hang yourself off a branch with that rat’s nest on your head.”

“Know that my heart will guide me back to you no matter what the trial,” Sorey replied, leaning forward to snatch Mikleo by the waist and drag him in. He rested his cheek on Mikleo’s stomach, and sighed happily.

Mikleo’s fingers slid into his hair.

“Why are you so intent on staying here?” he murmured. “Was your life with humans truly that wretched?”

“…no,” Sorey said against Mikleo’s skin. “I love my parents, and they’re probably worried about me.”

“You’ll see them again. Once your wound heals and you can make the voyage safely. I’ll even fly above your boat to help guide you.”

Sorey’s arms wrapped tighter around Mikleo. Mikleo sighed.

“You don’t plan on leaving, do you?”

Sorey’s eyes slid shut.

“They don’t need me. They don’t need a prince that can’t lead, a prince that no one respects. And they know it too – that’s why they were going to marry me off to someone who actually knows what she’s doing. My mom and dad can just pass the crown to her and everything will be fine.”

“Marry?” Mikleo said, with no small bit of surprise. “You were engaged?”

Sorey nodded, and looked up at Mikleo’s shocked expression. “Yeah. You grabbed me from my wedding, actually.”

“I did _what_?”

Sorey laughed in delight, and almost helplessly – the atmosphere here, and the company, was simply too heavenly to stay sad for long. He hauled Mikleo in to sit on his lap on his perch, and Mikleo’s tail curled around his calf on reflex.

“An arranged marriage, don’t worry. I don’t dress that fancy every day,” he said. “But I know why you’re probably confused. Over the centuries, the sacrificial rites slowly merged with wedding rites – it’s really a fascinating anthropological journey if you want to hear about it. I’ve been amending my theories on it ever since I met you.”

Mikleo gaped at him like a fish. “You – your kingdom merged…”

Mikleo paused, but then got a thoughtful look on his face.

“…though I suppose it follows a certain sort of logic,” he granted. “After all, I’ve read that human societies often associate mating with marriage. And we of course take humans to mate with when we do not simply eat them. While I was not certain that this ever became common knowledge among your kind, perhaps word of the general process got out somehow, and worked its way into your cultural rites.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Sorey eagerly said. “You’re probably not the first dragon to spare someone, y’know? So that person comes back, tells their story, and it becomes a popular book, or play, or something – it then starts getting integrated into the cultural consciousness until we’re where we are now.”

“Yes, yes,” Mikleo continued. “Perhaps if there were marriage records dating back a few centuries, we could pinpoint when the change started to take place…”

Mikleo paused before he got too off-track, and slanted a look at Sorey.

“Is that why you keep calling me your ‘bride’? The fact that I hijacked your wedding and mated with you?”

“…well, yes, but I also love you a whole bunch,” Sorey explained.

“Ah,” Mikleo said airily. “I thought you were simply being peculiar, as always.”

He would like to have a proper wedding to Mikleo, too. In front of everyone he loved, under the midday sun; Mikleo pulling in his barge and kissing him in front of the cheering crowds. Then during their wedding feast, they’d sneak off, overcome with love and passion for each other, and Mikleo would trim off Sorey’s locks in their wedding suite before they fell atop the bed and made love until the sun rose.

Mikleo butted his forehead against Sorey’s, interrupting Sorey’s reverie. A small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth.

“If you’d like to tell me more about your theory, lie back so this bride of yours can to tend to your wound. And maybe do something with your hair.”

Though perhaps that kind of thing would be redundant, considering.


	5. Eurydice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Velvet's crew ride to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme tell you something: bustin' makes me feel good

\--

 

Velvet was not exaggerating in her statement that the ship navigator was a unique man.

The navigator’s quarters were in the belly of the ship, and the man himself was nestled in a meticulously-arranged nest of blankets and pillows. He was fussing over a pair of baby dragons that chased each other through the sea of blankets; ducking and diving into the fabric, swimming and poking their heads out to hiss and blow raspberries.

The man also had horns, a tail, scales, and a pair of feathered, jet-black wings – you know, all unique things. Rose kept her mouth shut, and started trying to gather her racing thoughts on what she was seeing – and how it affected her chances of getting Sorey back safely.

“Eizen,” Velvet said. “May we have your ear for a moment.”

Eizen turned to regard them. His gaze lingered over the ghost girl just long enough that Rose could have sworn he saw her, but he turned his attention to Rose without further comment on the demonic specter out to kill them all.

“You are interrupting naptime,” Eizen said flatly.

“I understand,” Velvet said. “But we will be quick.”

One of the baby dragons shrieked, and launched itself at its fellow dragon. The other dragon likewise shrieked in retaliation, marking the start of an awful arms race of biting and high-pitched screaming. In this sense, they weren’t really much unlike human children in terms of how they handled social matters, which gave Rose some pause. Eizen gave a look to Velvet, and Velvet nodded in acknowledgement. She marched over and, quick as lightning, snatched and scruffed both dragons before they could dive and escape into the blanket sea. She held them both up in front of her face, her expression stern.

“It’s naptime,” Velvet said firmly. “Behave for your mother or your aunt Edna will hear about this. And you won’t get omelets.”

The dragons hung limply in Velvet’s grip. Rose couldn’t really read the expressions of overgrown lizards, but they seemed sulky at having their fight interrupted. One sullenly took a half-hearted swipe at the other, and was kicked by their sibling in response. Velvet made a warning noise, and both of them hastily withdrew their limbs and tucked them against their chests.

Satisfied, she passed both babies back over to Eizen, who bundled them into the nest; burying them securely in blankets, out of sight. Velvet motioned to her pirate associates to release their hold on Rose, and they dutifully stepped back.

“We need you to fly to the Forbidden Isles,” Velvet said. “See if you smell a living human there.”

“And why,” Eizen asked, fussily arranging the blankets. “Would I be doing that?”

“Some Midgand prince got swooped by a dragon at his wedding because they decided to sing him down the aisle to a mating call.”

Eizen cocked an eyebrow.

“…I didn’t plan the wedding,” Rose mumbled, half-heartedly.

“…and then his fiancée here decided to chase after them both by taking a fishing skipper out onto open water,” Velvet continued. “She’s been lost in the mists for days, which tells me that she’s got no chance of finding the islands on her own.”

Eizen snorted and stood to his full height, finally having arranged the blankets and babies to his liking.

“I’ve no real interest in interfering with the natural course of…marital troubles,” Eizen said. “But he’s surely dead by now, by any stretch of the imagination.”

“And why are you so sure of that?” Rose countered. “Sorey is a strong, smart kid. He could be holed up in a cave on that island, just waiting for a ship to swing close enough to rescue him.”

“Dragons do not allow their mating chattel to go to waste,” Eizen said in a matter-of-fact tone. “The protein is essential for healthy pups and strong eggshells.”

“Mating…chattel?” Rose repeated. Her blood ran cold. Sorey…

“He could have simply been eaten,” Eizen granted. “But the resident of this area is a young dragon, just entering his fertile years. He is sure to have partaken of the opportunity offered.”

“Says you, you horny bastard,” Velvet countered. “I doubt every dragon partakes as much as you do. If Aifread didn’t keep you stuffed full of his rivals, you’d have eaten him long ago. Not that I care; helps me expand my fleet of ships, at least.”

Eizen smirked at that, and gave a little shrug and chuckle. But Rose was not as amused by this information. Not in the least.

Her nails dug into the skin of her palm. The idea of Sorey being killed was not a pleasant one to begin with. But this…the idea of this was so much worse. For once, Rose welcome the ghostly hand on her shoulder for comfort. She spared a hand of her own to cover it.

“Sorey didn’t ask for any of this,” Rose finally said. “He didn’t deserve any of this. And I want to – I want to go to that island, even if there’s the barest chance he’s still there waiting to be saved.”

With that, Rose bowed her head, and went on one knee. The pirate guards stepped forward at her sudden motion, their hands on their weapons; but halted when Velvet gestured at them to stand down.

“Please. Just – see if he’s still there,” Rose begged. “See if he’s safe. See if he needs me.”

And yet Eizen still appeared to be unmoved. He turned to fuss further over the blanket nest. Rose wanted to lunge forward, grab onto his horns, and introduce his nose to her kneecap.

“There’s a royal bounty,” Rose snapped. “A princely sum in return for a prince.”

Eizen paused, and slowly turned his gaze back to Rose. Ah, at least Rose could still rely on the greed of her fellow man. If Eizen even counted as that…the idea that dragons could take on this kind of form was new info to her. Rose was learning way more about dragons than she ever wanted to know today.

“…I am not overly familiar with the resident dragon of these waters,” Eizen said, after a moment of deliberation. “I have only seen him on rare occasion, hunting from a distance. He is reclusive even by the standards of our species, and rarely leaves the island or its surrounding waters. It has been said that he inherited the territory after the death of his mother at the hands of a Midgand adventurer.”

Well, that story sounded familiar, Rose thought. She couldn’t help the tight little smile that tugged at her mouth. So much for escaping that family legacy of hers.

“It is a magical isle that he roosts upon,” Eizen continued. “It moves around as it pleases, whenever it pleases. And you’ll never find it, or make land on it, unless--”

“Unless Sorey is still alive and truly loves me and can guide me there with his heart like some sort of sappy-ass lighthouse beacon, yeah, we covered that,” Rose interrupted. “And it’s not gonna happen that way. What’s it gonna take for _you_ to scout it out?”

Eizen’s face was an impenetrable mask, but it was clear enough that he was upset at having his dramatic monologue interrupted.

“I will track the isle’s movements over the next week,” Eizen tersely said. “And will attempt to pinpoint the best time to approach by air before it moves again.”

“And I’ll ride along--” Rose began.

“I will go alone,” Eizen counter-interrupted. “I do not plan on contributing to your pointless vengeance, and I do not plan on interacting with the island’s keeper any more than I must. It is simply rude to intrude when one is brooding.”

“That will be enough,” Velvet said. “Collect the prince, or what remains of him, and we will present it for our bounty.”

Rose glared at the both of them with enough ferocity that the guards felt it necessary to re-secure her. Velvet waved them off, and directed Rose to be taken to a holding cell in the brig. Rose’s mind raced on the way there, trying to think of some way, any way, to stow away on Eizen’s flight; like a heroic tick on the back of some great lumbering, slavering beast. It was bad enough that it would take a week or more for Eizen to even track the island – Rose had wasted so much time with a dead wind in the waters, and now Sorey would have to wait even longer to be rescued…and he’d have to deal with being snatched up by another overgrown lizard to boot. Who apparently had a bad track record with keeping his paws and jaws off what he picked up. Rose swore on her own life, if he so much as laid a single finger on Sorey, she’d –

She was not able to finish that thought, as she was unceremoniously deposited in her cell. The door was secured after her, and she was alone once more.

Mostly alone.

The ghost glided over to the bedroll in the corner of the room, and settled in a swirl of ethereal skirts atop it.

“Please come rest,” said the ghost. She fluffed the pillow for Rose, and patted the blankets next to her. “You’ll need your strength.”

Rose sighed and wandered over to collapse next to her, lying face down into the pillow. After a moment, she propped her head up on her arm and finally looked at the ghost girl properly, for the first time since she saw her on the boat.

“I’m Rose Sparrowfeather,” Rose introduced herself. She extended a hand to shake. “You seem to know me, or seem to think you know me. But I can’t say the same about you. I don’t make a habit of befriending ghosts, on account of being terrified of them.”

The ghost looked a bit hurt, but managed a small smile. She reached out with one opaque hand, and lightly brushed her fingers against Rose’s. “You’re talking to me now, though.”

“I’m too pissed off,” Rose sighed. “And exhausted. I can only manage about two emotions at once, so the terror got bumped off until further notice.”

Rose’s stomach growled, and she groaned aloud as well.

“Exhaustion has now been replaced by hunger,” Rose announced. “I hope they’re not too busy jerking off to the thought of their bounty and remember to feed me in here.”

The ghost perked up at that, and leaned in to Rose’s face with an eager, determined look.

“If they are derelict in their hospitality,” the ghost swore. “I will make them repent their poor manners.”

“Awesome,” Rose squeaked, trying not to cry. She took a deep breath to calm her screaming heart. “So uh. Who are you? How did you get like…”

Rose trailed off, thinking vaguely that it might be rude to ask a ghost how they died. It might be like pointing out someone’s bad haircut, only worse. Rose poked her finger against the ghost’s cheek, as if in demonstration of how it slipped right through it.

“My name is Alisha Diphda,” the ghost introduced, bowing her chin politely. “And I was killed by the dragon of those isles.”

“Oh,” Rose said. She supposed that revelation called for more shock, but honestly, she was all shocked out right now. “Did you hitch a ride aboard my merry vessel to revenge yourself, then? Though those duds of yours don’t look quite suited for adventuring.”

Alisha plucked at the stitching on her elaborate gown, and chuckled a bit.

“No,” she said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “No, I didn’t join you in pursuit of revenge. I do not regret my fate. But I simply thought you resembled someone I lost, very long ago. I sincerely apologize for frightening you, and causing us to be caught up by these pirate scoundrels.”

Rose waved off Alisha’s apologies. “Don’t worry about it. If I didn’t get dragged aboard, who knows how much longer I would’ve been wandering those mists blind? I might’ve wound up joining your merry little specter crew before I knew it.”

“I am certain you would have been guided to the isles by the pull of your fiancé’s heart,” Alisha said. “Did you not hear a call? Feel the pull of their soul on your own, tugging upon it like a barge towed across the waters?”

“Nothing that poetic, I can tell you that much,” Rose said with a laugh. “This is just an arranged thing. I’m fond enough of him, but we’re…I know that he doesn’t see me that way. I doubt he ever would.”

Rose was quiet for a long moment.

“Do you know what really set me apart from the other suitors fighting for his hand?” Rose asked quietly. “I had everyone absolutely convinced that I was doing this for Sorey’s own good. Even myself.”

She had been granted an audience with the king, when it had become clear she was a front-runner in the bidding for Sorey’s hand. King Georg Heldalf was an imposing man – he was every inch the lion that trotted through the royal family’s heraldry. Rather unexpectedly, he also was a doting father. Dozens of portraits hung on the walls of his study: of Sorey, of the queen Selene, of the queen holding Sorey; their twin smiles bringing light to the solemn room.

The king confided to Rose that he was kept awake at night at the thought of leaving his son to bear the weight of the crown alone. Prince Sorey was a kind and loving boy, with a pure heart – he would surely be devoured whole, or mangled into someone entirely unrecognizable. He needed someone to guide him, to protect him from the poisoned knives of courtly plots, to shield him from the cruelty of war. And the king seemed to think Rose would be able to deliver on that kind of tall order.

He seemed so sure that Rose would be able to keep Sorey safe. Well, everyone had to be wrong sometimes. But even if Sorey hadn’t been stolen away…

Rose thought she was fine with this life plan – to marry some noble, and then use them as a stepping-stone; a free pass behind doors that would otherwise be closed to her. It was only clear to her now how cruel such a sentiment was. She remembered Sorey’s library of books. Among the historical texts and illuminated manuscripts of natural science, he had piles upon piles of romance poetry and prose – stories about courtly love, forbidden passions, tearful confessions and happily ever afters. It was clearly something he dreamed of for himself, and it was a future that Rose had fully planned to steal from him for her own personal gain.

Sorey was just a sheltered little princeling that spent his days in scholarly retreat at the library. They had so few interests in common, Rose had thought. He’d tried to talk to her about history, philosophy, language, and she’d indulged him and ignored him like she would a small child babbling about his toys. She had never even bothered to try and make a connection with him. Perhaps if she had, she would have seen that lighthouse beacon calling to her, would have felt the pull of his heart.

She might have been able to save him.

Alisha gently touched her shoulder.

“We have a guest,” she said.

The door to Rose’s cell had a small, locked slot in it; used to pass food and supplies back and forth. The slot was currently open, and a pair of green eyes were peeking through it.

“Hey there,” said Rose. “Thanks for trying with the salt earlier.”

Having been discovered in his not-so-secret spying spot, Phi made a little noise and nearly slammed the viewing window shut. Rose reached out a hand to stop him.

“Wait! Wait, wait. Can I talk to you for a bit? It’s lonely in here.”

Phi peeked through the slot again, and looked around Rose’s cell.

“…I heard you talking to someone,” Phi remarked. “Is it a ghost?”

“Maybe,” Rose said mysteriously. “Or maybe I have a guardian spirit, and I’m just biding my time until I use them to summon a giant kraken from the depths to break me out of here.”

“It’s a ghost,” Phi confirmed. His eyes narrowed. “Or you’re crazy from drinking seawater. I’d be able to see them if they were a guardian spirit.”

Rose was not in the mood to get sassed by a ten-year-old. Or however old this kid was – she had no idea how dragons aged.

“I’m not old enough to be able to sense human ghosts yet,” Phi explained further. “Once my horns grow in, my senses will be sharper, like Eizen’s. He saw your ghost and I heard him talking about it.”

“It behooves me to inform you that flinging salt at me will not do anything,” Alisha stated. “Please don’t be wasteful.”

“My guardian ghostie says that she’ll short-sheet your bed while you sleep if you don’t go into the kitchen and bring me booze,” Rose translated to Phi.

Alisha huffed angrily, and her cheeks puffed out petulantly. Rose was delighted at the sight – maybe this haunting thing wasn’t all bad. “I said no such thing!”

“I don’t think she really said that,” Phi said. “Does she have a name?”

“My name is Alisha Diphda,” said Alisha warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Phi. May we ask what a sweet boy like yourself is doing on a pirate ship? Have these scoundrels kidnapped you?”

Rose would have to remind Alisha later that this kid wasn’t a “sweet boy” – he was going to grow up into a bloodthirsty beast. But maybe that was a discussion better saved for when Phi wasn’t around. Rose needed corporeal allies badly.

“She says her name is Alisha Diphda, and that she thinks your horns are already neato. What are you doing cooped up on this ship?”

Phi’s cheeks colored, and his hand went up to pat at the little nubs that just barely peeked out of his blond hair.

“Thank you, Alisha,” Phi said shyly. “Velvet is like my big sister. She’s taken care of me ever since I was really little. ‘Diphda’ is a really old name; like the old Midgand kings and queens in my history books. How long ago did Alisha become a ghost?”

“I’ve lost track of the years,” Alisha admitted. “I am glad to hear that Midgand still flourishes, even if my family name is no longer. Do you know who currently wears the crown? Perhaps any information on their lineage? I would be fascinated to know if their ancestry could be traced back to my brothers’ and sisters’ bloodline, and would love to learn more about the development of the kingdom over the years. I do hope that the bridge projects my aunt was spearheading saw fruition--”

Rose’s eyes began to cross.

“She’s real old,” Rose translated. “And wants, like, a Midgand history book to look at.”

Phi’s eyes went bright, and he bolted away from the door without bothering to close the viewing slot. Rose shouted after him in despair.

“Bring back some bacon too, would you!?”

Phi reappeared a few minutes later, and eagerly shoved a book through the door’s slot. It was a thick, leather-bound tome, labeled with careful gold lettering: _A Compilation of Midgand History: from the Age of Desolation to the Present Day_. It sounded like something that would be right up Sorey’s alley, if he didn’t already have it on his shelves.

“Take good care of it, please,” Phi said. A dark look crossed his face, the force of which was undercut by the pout of his lower lip. “Eizen’s puppies chewed on it a few weeks ago, when I was trying to read them a story.”

Rose noticed the ragged-looking bite marks on the binding. If a couple of baby dragons could do that much damage by idly gumming on a book…

Alisha glided over and gratefully took the offered book, and Phi made a wondering sound as he watched it seemingly float in thin air.

“Thank you,” Alisha said.

Rose communicated the sentiment in as many words. Phi smiled brightly.

“You’re welcome! Once my horns grow in, we can talk about it,” he said. He paused, and shifted uneasily in place. “…but I do want it back before then. Like, maybe before my bedtime tonight so I can read it again.”

Alisha laughed, and opened the book then and there.

“I’ll get started,” she promised. “On my honor, I swear that you will have it by then.”

“She says she’ll finish it even if it kills her. Again,” Rose translated.

Overcome with happiness, Phi made an excited little noise before he slammed the slot door slot shut and raced off down the hall.

“And there he goes,” Rose said sadly. “I doubt he’ll come back with bacon anytime soon.”

Alisha settled in to read, and Rose watched her for a while to get her mind off her growling stomach. Despite being a wholly and utterly horrifying specter from the yawning beyond, she wasn’t bad on the eyes. And wasn’t bad company, especially when the alternative was no company at all.

“So,” Rose began. “You were a princess way back when. And they still let you get sacrificed?”

Alisha’s fingers stilled on the book’s pages, and her eyelashes fluttered once to splay across her cheeks before she schooled her expression.

“We were a small kingdom, surrounded by many enemies. The sacrifices ensured the dragon’s continued protection over our seas and land. I considered it an honor to die for the good of the people--”

“Well, at least you’re not a self-preserving hypocrite like most of the nobles I’ve met,” Rose remarked. “But I can only hope all the other people who got sacrificed before you felt the same way as you.”

Alisha glared at her.

“The suffering of my people weighed on my heart every waking moment. We were at the cusp of a diplomatic arrangement with a nearby kingdom – I had negotiated an exchange of marriages and a tithing of our annual produce and exports, for an alliance – when my name was drawn in the sacrificial lottery. The nobility was not exempt from it, and I refused to use my standing to name an innocent citizen to be rowed out in my stead. I…I left so much work undone, and left someone very important to me behind… I thought perhaps this book would tell me if it was all for naught…”

Alisha paused to compose herself. Rose gave her a minute.

“Kind of suspicious that you got drawn at such an inconvenient time,” she observed.

“Yes,” Alisha said coldly. “Yes, it was. There were those who did not approve of the alliance. Trading one bondage for another. But Midgand still stands to this day, and therefore my sacrifice was just.”

And at that, they sat in silence, interrupted only by the sound of Phi sliding open the door slot again to shove a still-flopping fish through.

“Velvet’s in the pantry, so I couldn’t sneak you anything,” he said apologetically. “I dove off the boat to catch you this fish though.”

Rose appreciated the effort.

 

\--

 

The sun had barely broken over the horizon, and Mikleo already heard Sorey up and moving around in the nest. He groaned and cracked open one eye.

Sorey had taken up a permanent residence in the nest, and Mikleo no longer had any will for threats, or excuses. His body constantly ached for Sorey’s with the same gnawing keenness as his stomach once demanded of him. His heart, also, had long since begun to ache with the same keenness.

“Did I wake you?” Sorey whispered, as if controlling his volume now would have kept Mikleo from waking up at this ungodly hour in the first place. For heaven’s sake, the moon and stars were still out. “I’m sorry.”

Mikleo shifted his body in place in the blanket nest, grunting as he tried to find a comfortable position for his stomach. Over the last week or so, it had become more and more uncomfortable to spend time in his smaller form, and he had taken to staying in his larger one. Mikleo was worried that his appearance would deter Sorey from continuing their…alternative satiation methods. These worries turned out to be unfounded, and Sorey took to his duties with the same energy and eagerness. Perhaps a little _too_ much energy and eagerness. Mikleo needed Sorey’s assistance, to be sure, but he didn’t need it three or four times in a span of as many hours. He was rather impressed Sorey could still manage to walk. Mikleo wondered if all humans were like this, or if he’d simply picked up one with particular tastes.

In any case, after a few more weeks of this, it would be time to lay the eggs, and maybe then Mikleo would be able to sleep through the night again – curled up around them to keep them warm, with the memory of Sorey’s voice reading aloud to him in his head. He would treasure the sound of it always, long after Sorey finally grew tired of the island and left to return to his kingdom, and his fiancée. Long after he lived out his short human life.

Sorey stroked a hand over Mikleo’s muzzle, and Mikleo huffed out a breath at the feeling of it.

“Go back to sleep, I’ll have breakfast for us in just a little bit.”

The gentle touch and the promise in Sorey’s voice was enough to lull Mikleo back to sleep. And he would have remained so, dreaming idle dreams of the tales that Sorey had woven for him from the books: of the rise and fall of kingdoms, of a clever knight who escaped with his soul still in his possession after stumbling into the fairy kingdom, of a princess whose tears restored life to her dying prince. Of the human woman who enraptured her captor with stories for a thousand and one nights until he adored her too desperately to end her life as he intended.

His sleep was again interrupted, however – not by the welcoming thump of Sorey’s feet or his idle humming, but by the sound of great beating wings outside his nest. Mikleo’s eyes flew open; his pupils slitted, his nostrils flared.

The smell was unmistakable: another dragon had invaded his territory, and was closing in on his nest.

While his island was safeguarded from approach by sea, there was no such protection from an air approach. Mikleo was not aware of any other dragons in the area aside from Lailah, and would not have trusted their intent even in the best of times. But with his eggs’ safety on the line and the alien hormones racing through his blood, the stench was rapidly sending Mikleo spiraling into a blind rage.

His lips curled back from his teeth, and a rattling growl stuck in his throat like a bone. His feathers stood on end. This interloper would dearly regret their intrusion. Mikleo would lunge and lock horns with them, would tangle with them and send them both tumbling out of the sky and into the sea. Mikleo was as sleek and maneuverable in the water as in the air, unlike many of his kind, and would surely condemn the intruder to a watery grave.

The very mountain seemed to shake. There was the sound of claws digging in to rock – and then, a massive dragon head peeked into one of the cave openings that overlooked the sea.

Mikleo was a young dragon, and a small one at that. He was taller than Sorey on all fours, but only just. This dragon was twice his size and three times his weight, and four or more times his age, judging from the rings on his horns. But Mikleo had a few things on his side: this was his island. This was his nest. He was pregnant and mad as hell.

Mikleo let out a roar that shook the stalactites on the cave ceilings, and lunged at the intruder’s head in a fury of claws and teeth. The intruder was taken off-guard by the surprise attack, and lost their grip on the rocks anchoring them to the side of the mountain. The two of them went tumbling down in a freefall to the rocky shore below, thrashing and swirling as they went.

The intruder beat their huge black wings, sending them both off-course and making them careen into the nearby treetops. Branches shattered and snapped under their weight, and disturbed birds took flight into the skies. They hit the ground in a cacophony of noise, and Mikleo rolled, quickly scrambling to his feet to resume his assault. But his opponent had recovered faster than expected – and, on level ground and without the element of surprise, Mikleo knew he did not stand much of a chance against his enemy’s superior size.

Mikleo thought of this island, his home, that he’d protected alone for so long after he buried his mother. He thought of his den, his nest, his books. His pups.

He thought of Sorey, who was probably roaming somewhere nearby, oblivious to the danger.

The growl returned to Mikleo’s throat, and his claws dug into the dirt beneath him.

“ _Wait. Hold.”_

So, the intruder wanted to talk. Mikleo continued to snarl at him, and nearly spat out his response.

“ _This is my territory. Leave this place before I tear your limbs from your body_.”

The intruder snorted, and Mikleo’s fury spiked again.

“ _You’re carrying pups. I can smell it on you,”_ said the intruder. “ _It would hardly be a fair fight._ ”

“ _Then leave_ ,” Mikleo said.

“ _Gladly_ ,” said the intruder. “ _With you in that state, it’s all I need to know._ ”

 And what, exactly, was that supposed to mean? Mikleo’s brain was muddled with adrenaline. Did this intruder plan on coming back when the eggs were laid, when Mikleo was weak from exhaustion and unable to leave the nest to protect Sorey? Surely they weren’t simply stopping in to take in the scenery. He would not give them the chance to take his life and smash his eggs on a return visit. He would not risk them finding Sorey and devouring him. This would end here.

Mikleo pounced. Unfortunately, he no longer was quite as fleet of foot and light of body as he was before Sorey’s arrival – the intruder was easily able to sidestep him, sending Mikleo stumbling and staggering past. Mikleo coiled back, bared his teeth, and scraped the ground in preparation for a charge. The intruder lowered his head, and caught Mikleo’s horns with his own; locking them both in a test of might that Mikleo now was all too aware that he could not win. Mikleo clenched his teeth, and pushed forward with all his strength. If he could simply maneuver them, herd them toward the nearby shore, Mikleo could tuck and roll them and their locked horns into the sea. He would end this interloper beneath the waves.

Their claws tore divots in the earth and rock below them, and their tails swung wildly for balance as they struggled. Mikleo heard their tails crash through the trunks of the trees that were crushed by their descent, splintering them further and sending pieces flying.

“Mikleo--!”

Mikleo’s whole body froze with dread at the sound of Sorey’s panicked shout – and the sickening crack that cut it short. Mikleo thrashed wildly, panicked, trying to free himself from the intruder’s horn-lock, trying to see where Sorey was, what had _happened_ —

He needed to get him away before this intruder saw him, smelled him, chased him down—

The scent of human blood filled the air. It made Mikleo’s stomach twist with horror, not hunger. Finally, he managed to wrench himself free, and spun to face the source of the smell with a pathetic squawking attempt at Sorey’s name.

Sorey was sprawled in the wreckage of a line of trees. He had fallen onto – or been knocked into, no doubt, by Mikleo’s flailing tail – a shard of splintered wood, driving it through his shoulder. It had skewered him through, and blood was flowing freely from the wound. His eyes were still open – Mikleo could see those beautiful green eyes trained on him, still. They were wide with shock.

Mikleo hardly recognized the wail that tore from his own throat.


	6. Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey kind of recovers, makes a daring escape, and organizes his own re-kidnapping with the help of a spooky ghost.

\--

 

When Velvet knocked on Rose’s cell door, Rose had already braced herself for the worst.

“Eizen has recovered the Midgand prince. He’s wounded and on death’s door,” Velvet said, evenly, and altogether too calmly – as if it was business as usual for her. “I will escort you to the medical bay if you wish to say your farewells to your dear fiancé.”

And when she wasn’t presented with the worst, it was almost…worse. Rose leapt to her feet, and rushed the door as Velvet opened it. Velvet was without her guards, but stopped Rose handily in her tracks with a single hand.

“Behave yourself on my ship, Sparrowfeather, or I’ll lock you back in this cell and let your fiancé breathe his last breath among strangers,” Velvet growled at her.

Rose was able to manage a cocky smile, despite the fear that gripped her.

“Oh, don’t worry, I trust that you and yours will give him the best of care and patch him right up,” she said. “After all, you’ll only get a fraction of the bounty if he’s brought back dead.”

“Is that so? Well, I’ll have to tell our crew doctor to break out the real medicine then, instead of having her treat him with whatever crap she found underneath the kitchen cabinets.”

Velvet grabbed Rose by the scruff, then paused.

“…just so you know, that was sarcasm. I keep a spotless ship.”

Velvet hauled Rose along through the halls until they arrived in the medical bay, and Rose’s stomach dropped out at the sight before her.

Velvet told the truth, and Eizen had been good to his word – Sorey had been recovered from the creature that stole him away. But Rose wouldn’t have assumed he was still alive if Velvet had not told her as much. There was so much blood, and he was so pale. He was lying prone on a repurposed dining table, and his blank eyes stared at nothing. His once-beautiful long hair was a mess of tangles and debris and was matted with blood – so much blood. A gaping wound oozed freely at his shoulder.

“Sorey!” Rose cried out, rushing over to him. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I’m--”

“‘ey! I’m workin’ here! Velvet, collect your pet prisoner before she breaks my concentration.”

Rose glared at the ship doctor, but dutifully backed off to allow her to work. She was a slight blonde woman with strangely pointed ears, and her loud, colorful clothing made her look more like a street performer than a medical professional. Nevertheless, her fingers were quick and nimble as they removed the wooden splinters that were stuck deep in Sorey’s wound; pausing to staunch the bleeding as it came, then returning straightaway to her work.

“…is he awake?” Rose asked, quietly.

“Kinda. He was delirious and ranting when he landed, and then I drugged him so he’d shut up and stop squirming,” said the doctor. “Hooboy, not that I could blame him for thrashing around. You think he looks like shit now, you shoulda seen him when Eizen first hauled him in here. It looked like he got in a fight with a porcupine, except its quills were tree branches, and on those tree branches there were more tree branches--”

Sorey startled, and tried to get up, mumbling something urgent and wholly unintelligible. Rose leapt forward, and tried her best to hold him down as gently as she could. The doctor grumbled and fumbled on her desk of supplies for another dose of sedative. Sorey’s eyes darted back and forth, as if searching, searching for something that wasn’t there.

He was hurt, and terrified, and didn’t know where he was. Probably thought he was still trapped on that island hell where he’d spent a month or more, with death waiting for him around every corner. Rose shushed him, and stroked at his face as comfortingly as she knew how.

“Shh, Sorey, it’s me, remember me? Yeah, we saved you, it’s all okay now. You’re not on that awful island anymore, you’ll never have to go back. Everything’s going to be okay--”

“…no, nonono, Mikleo, Mikleo…” Sorey kept mumbling, over and over.

He strained against Rose with renewed determination, but he didn’t have strength enough to push off her hold, nor strength enough to resist the doctor holding a rag soaked with sedative to his mouth and nose to send him under once more.

“Magilou,” Velvet said to the doctor. “Do whatever you need to make him survive until we make port at Midgand. After that, it’s on them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Magilou waved her off. “Once he stops waking up to rant and scream about whatever, it’ll make my job a lot easier. Then I’ll be able to daydream about spending my share of that bounty while I stitch him up.”

Bounty this, money that. Rose fumed as Velvet led her away, her nails digging into her palm. Funny how these things all worked out – Rose, someone who’d initially only pursued this match for financial gain, now getting her knickers in a snit about other people doing the exact same thing. Sorey was worth so much more than their little brains could even comprehend. He was kind and sweet and pure and deserved more than people just passing him around to the highest bidder—

Maybe this was the awakening moment, the head-out-of-ass moment that Rose had needed. They’d make port, and Sorey would be tended to by the finest doctors in the land. He’d recover, and Rose would woo him and romance him, and they’d be married as planned, and she would protect him for all of her days. And if that dragon that snatched Sorey ever showed its face again, Rose would make its head into a trophy for the throne room – magical mist-ical sea border protection be damned.

Maybe everyone talking about her ancestors and a destined bond had a point after all.

 

\--

 

Sorey had spent a long time now, it seemed, drifting in and out of the waking world.

Every time he tried to struggle his way back to the surface, it was as though there was something latched to his leg, dragging him back down into oblivion. If he could just force his way up and back into the air, he was sure he could get his bearings. He could search the horizon and find that shining lighthouse that would guide him back home. Back to Mikleo.

Mikleo. Sorey’s heart ached for him as keenly as his wounded shoulder, and no amount of medicine could dull it. The memory of Mikleo’s tear-streaked face haunted him.

It was his own fault – Sorey had heard Mikleo’s shrieks and the sounds of fighting, and had rushed from gathering herbs and roots to try and lend a hand. Surely he would have been useless in a fight as compared to Mikleo, but he couldn’t sit idly by while the one he loved – the one that had brought him purpose – fought for his life alone. And what a help he’d been. He wound up being nothing but a liability, an idle annoyance. He was knocked into a mess of shattered tree trunks, and had been skewered through. 

Mikleo had rushed to his side, collapsing himself into his human form in a splendor of light that dazzled Sorey even now. He pleaded for Sorey’s forgiveness, he screamed at him to shut up when Sorey tried to put together a sentence. Another dragon had invaded the island, and there was no time for Mikleo to fetch his supplies, to tend to his wounds – but Sorey knew that Mikleo’s herbs and soft touch would do little good for him, now.

Sorey reached out with an unsteady hand to wipe the tears from Mikleo’s cheeks. He’d had a month of pure happiness by Mikleo’s side, and he could slip away, like this, if he must. He just wished they could have had more time. He wished he could have held their little ones. He wished he could convince Mikleo to turn and flee, to save himself as the invader drew close.

Sorey croaked out a warning, and Mikleo turned and screamed at the strange dragon in a voice that seemed to shake the earth.

The invader, unexpectedly, yielded. They too changed forms, and introduced themselves as Eizen, sent to scout the island to search for Sorey on behalf of a representative of the crown of Midgand.

“And why should I believe a single word you say?” hissed Mikleo.

“Have I given you reason to assume me false?” Eizen shot back. “There is a bounty for the prince’s safe return. I mean to collect it, and it would be in the prince’s best interest for you to surrender him without any further nonsense. Or would you prefer to swat him into the rocks a few times to help you deliberate?”

Mikleo tucked his face against Sorey’s neck, his whole body quaking. Sorey was in poor shape to defend the honor of his bride, but that would not stop him from trying. However, as he tried to move, the branch that Sorey was pinned to lurched under his weight. Sorey wailed in agony. Mikleo jumped away from Sorey as if it was his fault, but it wasn’t, none of this was his fault –

“We have a doctor on board,” Eizen said. “Our ship is fast and our navigation is sure. We will be back to Midgand before the sun sets.”

Sorey would much sooner die in Mikleo’s arms than die on some strange ship, or even with the scents and sounds of his old home around him. Mikleo needed him, he would starve without him; he would starve and their children would die with him. He would let Mikleo devour him now, so he would be fed and well until the eggs hatched. And then his spirit would forever be beside him as their babies – their pups – romped through the sea surf and grew strong and beautiful and free –

Mikleo bowed his head, and Sorey felt his heart skip a beat.

“It was foolish of me to allow you to stay here,” Mikleo finally said. “I knew I would one day be the death of you. It is simply the way of things.”

“M-mikleo,” Sorey choked out through the tightness of his throat, the searing pain in his chest. “P-pl…want to…Mikleo…”

The intruder, Eizen, stepped forward, and Mikleo allowed him to gather Sorey – picking him up with a great deal more care than Sorey would have expected from a bounty-hunter. He left the branch in Sorey’s shoulder. Sorey felt like a butterfly caught and pinned, ready to be imprisoned under glass and left to fade upon some dusty shelf.

“You will surely starve,” Eizen informed him. “You are still early along. Know that the worst of your hunger is yet to come.”

“I know,” said Mikleo quietly.

“Should I stumble across any easy targets, and remain able to track your island as it moves, I would not be unwilling to deliver you a human or three to eat. It is the least I can do for someone in such a state.”

“Please. No,” Mikleo said, with more force. “Just leave.”

“…as you will. I will let no harm come to you or your pups,” Eizen swore to Mikleo. “No matter what bounty may be on your head, I will not lead a single soul here. Your island will remain undisturbed by human hands forevermore.”

“Thank you,” Mikleo whispered. “I hope that will be the case.”

Sorey vaguely felt Mikleo’s forehead brush his own, then his lips against his temple. He had no strength to hold on to Mikleo, or even to speak. He felt the earth fall away beneath him, and then nothing at all.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was in his own room at the castle.

He almost, almost would have written it all off as a dream – a wonderful, heartbreakingly wonderful dream – if not for the pain in his shoulder and the still-tender twinge in his midsection. As he squinted in the mid-day sun, a nurse tending to him gasped in surprise at his wakening. Before Sorey could gather the strength to ask her what had happened, how much time had passed, she had run off to collect the doctor.

After that, it was an overwhelming parade of doctors, surgeons, and nurses. They told him he had been asleep for three weeks. They told him gravely that the wooden splinters had nearly pierced his heart. They begrudgingly admitted that if it were not for the emergency efforts made aboard the pirate ship that ferried him back, he likely would not have survived. He would be on strict bedrest for the next month or more until Midgand’s finest had the chance to review his plan of treatment.

Three weeks. Sorey’s mind swam. Three weeks. Mikleo had been all alone, starving and blaming himself for Sorey’s condition, for three weeks. The eggs were probably laid by now, and if he was going to be locked up in his room for months, he’d miss the pups hatching…and that bounty hunter Eizen had said that he wouldn’t lead anyone back to Mikleo, not for any price, but—but what if he was lying, and there was a royal fleet sailing out to Mikleo’s island as he just laid here like a useless lump? What if Mikleo had already wasted away with hunger, and—and the eggs—

Sorey was just about to order every single person out of his room when his mother entered. She dissolved into tears at the sight of Sorey, and rushed to his bedside to embrace him. Despite his longing and worry for Mikleo, Sorey could not deny that he missed his family during his stay on the island, and it brought him grief to worry them. The medical crew quietly filed out, unwilling to risk offending the queen and interrupting her reunion with her son.

“My darling,” Selene finally managed. “Your father and I prayed every moment for your safe return. Rose truly is every inch another hero for the ages.”

Sorey blinked. “Rose? I thought pirates brought me back?”

“She enlisted the help of pirates to reach the nest of the creature that stole you away,” said Selene. “But it was her bravery and leadership that brought you back to us. She has asked after your health every hour for the past weeks – oh, my darling, I think she truly adores you. She will be a splendid spouse.”

Sorey’s whole body went cold, and he stared down at his hands. The wedding was still on. Of course it was. His mother’s hand squeezed his own.

“Don’t fret,” she promised. “The ceremony is on hold until you’re fully healed. And your father and Rose are already in discussions with the royal guard on how to make it more secure next time. We will not allow that beast to make a second attempt on your life.”

Sorey swallowed hard. “So. He’s still alive? You don’t know where he is?”

“Rose said that the pirates were…not forthcoming on how they reached the nest,” Selene said. “Rose is quite determined to get the information out of them. We cannot let such a dangerous creature prowl our skies.”

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. He – he had to talk to Rose.

“Did the pirates leave?” asked Sorey quietly.

“No. They are still moored here, negotiating their bounty, if you wish to send your thanks to them.”

“I see.” Sorey adjusted himself, using his good arm to prop a pillow behind his back so he could sit up. “I’d like to talk to Rose, when she’s available.”

“Of course,” said Selene, leaning in to embrace Sorey once more. “I’m certain she’s eager to see you awake and well. I will see to your hair once the two of you are finished speaking – it pains me to see you look so ragged.”

His mother left, and Sorey was left with his thoughts. It did not take long for Rose to respond to the summons.

“Hey there,” she greeted from the doorway. “Awake already?”

Sorey gave her a tight smile.

“Yep. And I’m usually the one up before dawn, annoying everyone.” His voice was brittle as he spoke, and he couldn’t quite keep his hands from shaking. “I wanted to thank you and the pirates for helping get me to a doctor.”

Rose waved off the thanks. “It’s no big, I couldn’t just leave you out there--”

“That’s just the thing,” Sorey interrupted. “I wanted to be left out there. For good.”

Rose stared at him. Sorey straightened his back, and sat as tall and regally as he was able.

“I didn’t want to leave that island. You took me away from someone very dear to me – that same dragon you’re trying to hunt down. His protection allows this kingdom to prosper and remain safe from our enemies. Without him, Midgand will fall. If you don’t call off the search immediately, I will know that you don’t have Midgand’s best interests in mind, and I will terminate our engagement.”

His voice was almost unrecognizable to his ears – it sounded like the voice his father used during court. Never mind the fact that calling off the wedding entirely hardly sounded like a threat to his ears. He could no longer live like this. The stone walls and herald tapestries were going to suffocate him before his month of bedrest was up.

Rose walked over to his bedside. She crossed her arms across her chest, and bent over to look him dead in the eye.

“Do you have any idea how insane you sound right now?” Rose asked, in a casual tone – as if she was wondering what Sorey would like for breakfast. “Must be all that blood you lost. Y’know, from that dragon that tried to rape and kill you.”

Sorey’s temper flared, and the stiffening of his muscles sent pain shooting through his wounded limb.

“I went to bed with him willingly,” he hissed at her. “He’s expecting our children any day now, and--”

Rose shook her head and straightened back up, and headed to the door.

“We can revisit this little discussion once the wedding’s back on,” Rose said. “Take a nap to clear your head. I’ll have the kitchens bring you up a snack.”

And with that, she was gone; shutting the door behind her. Sorey stared out the window of his stone-walled, tapestry-laden prison cell, and longed to scream into the skies until Mikleo could hear him and find him once more.

 

\--

 

Mikleo hadn’t deserved to keep Sorey by his side. He’d kidnapped him, terrorized him, nearly killed him. He’d even probably succeeded on the last point. And he supposed it was just as true that he didn’t deserve to see his pups grow up, either.

He just hoped he was strong enough to survive until they hatched – to keep them warm, to keep them alive, until he could finally slip away to where his mother surely waited for him...to where Sorey waited for him.

(As the hunger worsened, he had begun to see things, begun to hear things – snippets of conversations they’d had, the phantom touch of Sorey’s hand on his cheek. It was so much more painful than the roiling of his insides. He spat out a curse at the latest phantom, and his heart ached at the sound of Sorey’s fading laughter.)

Mikleo shivered and curled around the eggs a bit more in the nest. It was no surprise that most dragons ate their mates instead of facing this kind of agony. He’d emptied the surrounding waters of the island of fish, and it still wasn’t enough. He hoped he hadn’t doomed his pups’ chances at life with his gluttony – he’d stumbled back in here with what sanity remained of him, before he devoured and destroyed the whole island. He stared at his wrist where it lay in front of him, draped across the blankets of the nest. It looked grotesquely delicate, thin as a twig. He could feel the outline of his ribs clearly through his skin. His stomach made another terrible noise. Mikleo ignored it. Even if he had the strength to leave the nest, even if he had the energy to manage his larger form, there was nothing left for miles around – he had razed the waters clean, and had nothing to show for it. Save a few more hours of warmth to share with the eggs.

Mikleo pressed his forehead to one of the shells, pressed his ear to it – he could hear a little heartbeat, still. He nuzzled it gently and bundled himself and the eggs a little tighter in the blankets. He shivered again.

He’d always wondered if his mother had eaten his father. She’d never told him; he was young, still, when she was killed. By the time the thought of pups and mating had even crossed his mind, she was long gone. Lailah had seen to his care and education until he was old enough to manage on his own, and it was she who had planted a dangerous notion in his mind.

 

_(Mikleo picked through the latest box that had washed up to shore, and let out an excited chirp as he discovered its contents: books, glorious books! He hastily transformed into his smaller form to better stuff them into the treasure bag he carried along for these little expeditions down the beach._

_He heard a delighted laugh, and turned to see Lailah approaching. She was a remarkably lovely dragon in her larger form – though not more lovely than Mikleo remembered his mother – and retained the same beauty in her smaller form. She peeked at Mikleo’s latest find, and gave an embarrassed little smile._

_“That one looks a little beyond me, I’m afraid,” Lailah said._

_“That’s alright,” Mikleo assured her. He flipped open the book and gestured to the lush illustrations – owls bearing swords and shields, human heads walking on chicken legs, fish flying through the air. “There’s pictures that we can look at, too. Flying fish! I bet we could still catch them.”_

_“I’m very sure we could. You’re shaping up to be quite the talented hunter,” Lailah said._

_Mikleo beamed. Though he was young yet – his horns had barely grown in – he was quite proud of his hunting prowess. He could surely engage a flying fish in a merry race before dive-bombing it and gobbling it up whole. He looked over the book once more, and brushed his fingers against the page._

_“Humans are incredible,” he said quietly. “They create such amazing things. Books and flying fish.”_

_“Spoken like your mother’s son.” Lailah bent down to embrace him. “She was always so taken with talented humans.”_

_Mikleo’s mouth twisted, and his eyes blurred the illustrations on the page._

_“And then she had to eat them.”_

_Lailah was quiet at Mikleo’s remark, and squeezed him a little tighter._

_“Your mother…listen to me, Mikleo. We must eat humans, or else we simply cannot survive.”_

_“We could eat fish. Or plants, like the humans in the books do.”_

_“The hunger is terrible, when the time comes for you to consider mating. One could eat an entire lake of fish and not be satisfied – one hungry dragon could deprive an entire forest of nourishment, starve an entire human city. But a single human provides the nutrition and life energy we require.”_

_Tears prickled the corners of Mikleo’s eyes. He didn’t want to eat humans, anymore. They killed his mother, but they wrote books, and drew owl-knights. It just wasn’t fair. Any of it._

_Lailah wiped Mikleo’s face and made comforting noises. “Hush, Mikleo, hush. There are—there are ways to sate the hunger, other ways, but you cannot expect a human to simply agree to it, no, not like your father—”_

_Lailah stopped that train of thought, eyes wide. She’d clearly said too much._

_“…Come back to the nest,” Lailah said, finally. “We’ll see how much of that new book we can figure out together.”)_

The idea had taken root in Mikleo’s mind. In retrospect, the reason for Lailah’s reluctance to speak more on the matter was obvious. The idea of not consuming one’s partner would appeal to soft-hearted fools like Mikleo, and Lailah surely wanted to spare him the pain and grisly fate that he was currently experiencing. His mother had managed to last through the hunger – whether his father had fled and she was left with a stock-hold of fish, or whether his father had stayed to tend to her, as Sorey had – but she was clearly wiser, and more experienced. Mikleo remained a soft-hearted fool, and it had cost Sorey his life.

That intruder, Eizen, had warned him of this pain. Had offered to help. Mikleo’s stomach groaned dreamily at the very thought of fresh meat, but Mikleo pushed the thought down. For the sake of Sorey’s memory, for the sake of what dignity remained him, he would not take another innocent life to fuel his own. Instead, he would care for the innocent little lives in these eggs until they hatched, and then – well. His body, emaciated and weak as it was, was surely still reasonably nutritious. He hoped as much, at least.

There wasn’t much to do but lie here and wait for the inevitable. He wished he could still lift the book he’d been reading – this slow and wasting death was painful, but more presently, it was quite tedious. Mikleo closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember the sound of Sorey’s voice, and the light of his smile.

 

\--

 

“…young one…little great-great-great-great-great-great-grand-nephew, wake up…”

Sorey blinked open his eyes, blearily looking around his room. After his mother and a pair of stylists had done what they could to salvage his hair – after he’d refused to let them trim more than an inch off it, and they’d given up – he’d fallen asleep, despite himself. The moon was out, and the room’s lamps were burning low. There appeared to be no one in the room; not nurses, doctors, his servants…

…well, no one except that ghost woman hovering above his bed. He studied her curiously.

“…is that the Diphda heraldry on your clothing?” Sorey asked curiously.

The woman made a delighted noise, plucking at her robes to show them a bit more clearly.

“Why, yes,” she said. “I had hoped someone would notice. You see the twin sea-snakes entwining the sword of legend, surrounded by lilies—oh, but by the stars, there’s no time for that, now. Little great-great-great-great-great-great-grand-nephew, you must gather your strength and leave tonight, or you may never get another chance.”

Sorey’s eyes went wide, and he struggled upright, with effort. “What do you mean?”

The ghost clutched her hand to her heart. “…your fiancée’s heart is clouded by thoughts of vengeance. She is wholly convinced that the dragon has done unto you a great evil. If they do not agree to lead her to the Forbidden Isles, she plans on bringing charges down upon the pirates for their past theft of her company’s wares, so they can spring a surprise search upon the ship. I cannot begin to think what will happen when they behold the ship’s residents, but I know it will only end in tragedy. And if she convinces them to lead her to your dragon, a far worse tragedy will surely befall Midgand.”

Sorey tried to process this information, to formulate a plan. “…do the pirates know?”

“They are clearly aware that their fortunate winds are turning foul,” said the ghost. “They are preparing their ship as we speak to leave under cover of darkness. But little great-great-great-great-great-great-grand-nephew, they stand as your best – and perhaps your only – chance to escape this place and return to the one you truly love. You must leave with them tonight.”

With this and the terrible images of Mikleo wasting away alone in a cold nest burned into his eyelids, Sorey needed no further convincing. He grit his teeth, steeled his nerves, and dragged himself up and out of bed, biting back the groan of pain that followed. The ghost glided over to him, holding a sack in her arms.

“I’ve already prepared a bag of supplies for you,” she said. “As a great-great-great-great-great-great-grand-aunt should. Please allow me to assist you in finding your way to the docks.”

Sorey smiled at her gratefully. “Thank you,” he said. “So much.”

The ghost smiled back. “Of course. Anything for a great-great-great-great-great--”

“You can just call me your nephew,” Sorey assured her. “Or ‘Sorey’. What’s your name?”

The ghost curtsied politely. “Alisha Diphda. It is a pleasure, my nephew.”

As they crept from Sorey’s chambers, Sorey tried to keep his sound of surprise quiet.

“Alisha Diphda?” he repeated. “That’s…you’re the last person to have ever been sacrificed in the Dragon Festival. Then your lover, the great hero, followed the last traces of the guiding light to the island and…”

…killed Mikleo’s mother, dooming Mikleo to centuries of loneliness. And if Sorey didn’t get to the pirate ship in time, he had no idea when his next chance of saving him from that loneliness would be.

“Yes,” Alisha said sadly. “And Rose is a descendant of the woman I loved. I had thought, at first, that she might be the very same soul…perhaps once you and the pirates are far enough away that her sense and mercy can return to her, she may well regain my faith.”

There were almost no guards or servants on the route that Sorey led them – it was his favored route for sneaking from his room at night to creep to the library, and he had a near-flawless track record in not getting caught. The library was right near the maintenance entrance for deliveries, and Alisha’s ethereal form made short work of the locks. She was able to further distract the guards patrolling the outer door long enough for Sorey to slip past and into the outer streets of the city.

They carefully, purposefully made their way toward the docks.

“…Mikleo is the son of the dragon that took you,” Sorey admitted. “But he’s never killed a human, ever. He wanted to let me go right after we—well, right after he took me. Took me _away_.”

He coughed and scratched the back of his head.

“I just wanted you to know, and I hope that you don’t resent him…”

Alisha shook her head and smiled ruefully.

“I might have, at one point. I might have held it against his mother, as well. But time puts everything into perspective, and I have had a surfeit of it.”

She made a thoughtful noise as she guided Sorey through the back streets; keeping an eye out for guards and citizens both.

“You know, she was very apologetic,” Alisha explained. “But she had a child to feed and keep healthy, and she was all alone. I cannot begrudge her for doing what she had to for her child, and Midgand remains in her eternal debt for her many years of protection. And Midgand is in Mikleo’s debt, now, as well. We cannot let this cycle of killing continue, Sorey. Perhaps your and Mikleo’s union will be the start of something greater.”

They arrived at the docks, and Alisha floated up to a streetlamp to flicker it with quick swipes of her hand. The signal summoned another escort hiding amongst the shipping boxes and boat netting – a tiny boy in a cloak.

“His name is Phi,” Alisha said to Sorey. “He cannot see me, but he’s a dear boy, and lives on the ship under the care of the pirates’ captain. Before I came to fetch you, I already appeared to the man aboard named Eizen to request your safe passage. I couldn’t risk having them turn you away in your state.”

“You’re Sorey?” asked Phi. Sorey could see the glint of scales under his cloak, and began to understand why a search of the ship would end poorly for all involved. “Velvet knows you’re coming. Follow me, before someone spots you…”

Sorey dutifully followed, keeping himself as low as he was able. “Thank you for allowing me passage,” he said. “Though I don’t know how I’ll repay you.”

“Velvet says dumping you right back where we found you is your fiancée’s just desserts for scamming us out of our bounty,” Phi replied, reciting the words exactly as he’d no doubt heard them. “So I think it’s probably fine that you don’t have money.”

“There’s a book in your supply bag that I packed for him,” Alisha said to Sorey. “From the library. Tell him there’s a book I packed for him from the palace library.”

“My Aunt Alisha says there’s a book in my bag that she packed for you from the palace’s library,” Sorey repeated.

Phi’s eyes went even huger than they already were, and he stared at the floating bag greedily. Alisha lowered it down for him to grab onto and carry for Sorey, and he stretched up onto his tiptoes to accept it. He immediately peeped inside for his promised treasure. Sorey’s heart ached – he hoped that his and Mikleo’s pups would be just as cute and book-loving as this little one.

“You should tell your Aunt Alisha that it’s not right to steal. And from a library, no less.”

Sorey’s blood ran cold at that voice. Rose.

Rose appeared from the shadows of a stack of shipping boxes. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, and her hand fell to the knife strapped to her hip. Her gaze fell on Phi. Sorey stepped in front of Phi, blocking him from Rose’s line of sight.

She wouldn’t…

“Rose,” Sorey pleaded. “Please. Stop this. Don’t let the killing continue.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, prince, but I’m afraid that both sides have to be in agreement for it to work,” Rose said. “And those wounds all over your body seem to tell me that we haven’t quite reached that point yet.”

Despite Rose’s words, she made no further movements. Her hand shook minutely on the hilt of her knife. Sorey pressed his hand to his wounded shoulder. He hoped that Phi was quick enough to get away if he could not sway Rose’s heart.

“Mikleo and I, and our puppies, are going to be the start of a new era,” Sorey said. “We’re going to prove that dragons and humans can live side-by-side. And I’m going to get on this ship and demand that they take me right back to the island they kidnapped me from. That’s why I’m here. So please, Rose, just leave.”

Rose’s hand tightened on her knife.

“You’re delirious,” she murmured. “Blood-loss. That dragon did horrible things to you, Sorey, and you’re just too innocent to see it. You might be more forgiving than I am of those who are cruel to you, but I--”

“That month with Mikleo gave me more meaning than I had in eighteen years of living on this earth!” Sorey shot back. “He did _nothing_ to me that I didn’t want with all my heart – he gave me love, and companionship, and soon, he’ll be giving me a family. You can have my birthright, I’m sure you’d make a better leader than I ever would. That’s the only reason why you even wanted to marry me in the first place, isn’t it?”

Rose’s step faltered. Sorey sensed that this was the best chance they’d get to make a run for the ship.

“Goodbye, Rose. Tell my parents that I’m safe and happy. And sorry.”

With that, Sorey grabbed Phi by the arm and bolted for the ship.

“Wait!” Rose cried out. “Sorey, it’s not like that, you deserve so much more--”

Rose took off after Sorey and Phi, but before she managed to catch up with their meager lead, the winds picked up, blowing out all the streetlamps and plunging the docks into darkness. The stage thus set, Alisha sprang out in front of Rose. Her gown was stained with red, and her head lolled at a sickening angle from her neck. She twisted her spine backward, and allowed her mouth to gape open, showing a black void that seemed to ooze black ichor. She howled an agonizing, ghostly moan that rattled the windows on the nearby buildings, and sent crows screaming from their nests.

Rose froze in place. Alisha’s eyes darted back and forth, and she snapped her neck back into place, a bit self-consciously. She wiped the ichor from her mouth with a hankie from her sleeve.

“Um. Boo?” she offered.

Rose’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed to the docks in a heap.

Sorey and Phi paused in their flight, halfway up the plank that led onto the ship.

“…we should probably still hurry,” said Sorey. “I’m sure someone at the palace noticed I’m gone by now.”

As they boarded, Phi stomped on the floorboards rhythmically, and the ship’s crew seemed to appear out of nowhere. As they made the final preparations to set off, Sorey found himself being pulled aside by the ship’s captain.

“My name is Velvet Crowe, captain of this vessel,” she introduced herself. She didn’t have much clothing on. Sorey thought that was probably rude to bring up. “And professional prince kidnapper. Don’t worry, I won’t manhandle you like that amateur kidnapper you’re so taken with.”

Sorey bowed politely. “Thank you, Miss Crowe, for allowing me passage,” he said. “I’m not sure how I can repay you--”

“I got a new book!” yelled Phi in delight, having dug it out of Sorey’s bag.

“That’ll do,” Velvet said. “You don’t look like you’d be much use working the decks, anyway, with that shoulder. I’ll talk to Magilou to see if there’s any advice she has on keeping it in good shape on a remote island. I won’t make you talk to her. No one deserves that.”

“Thank you,” Sorey said, over and over. “Thank you, thank you…”

Velvet shrugged. “Letting you tag along is a fair payment for you protecting Phi on the docks. And no one out-scams us without blowback, I assure you.”

They began to sail away, and Sorey waved farewell to Alisha. Alisha waved to him in return, even as she carefully gathered up Rose’s unconscious body to carry her back to the palace. Sorey’s heart twinged. He hoped that it would be as Alisha said – that his safe, unreachable distance would give Rose time and space to come back to her senses. To again be the kind, gracious, and patient person that Sorey had met that one fateful day. After all, without their engagement, Sorey would have never gotten on that wedding barge, and would have never seen those wings in the sky.

“So,” Velvet said. “Is that dragon of yours going to light up the night for you, or am I going to have to listen to Eizen bitch about having to do his job again?”

Sorey felt a pull on his heart, steady and determined, drawing him in like the tug of a rope on a wedding gondola. He turned towards it, and saw a light in the distance: clear as the moon, as steady and unflagging as the North Star.

Velvet beckoned him after her, towards the ship’s wheel.

“Lead the way. But I’m driving.”

 

\--

 

It was quite early when they made land. Sorey squinted up at the skies – at the rosy pink moon that still peeked from behind the clouds, even as the sun broke the horizon. Mikleo was always so grumpy when Sorey woke him up this early. In better circumstances, he would have arrived in the nest with breakfast to sweeten Mikleo’s mood.

But right now, it was all he could do to not dive off the side of the boat and race off to the highest point of the mountain’s peak, where he knew Mikleo waited, alone and dreaming.

“I had fun with you, Sorey,” said Phi. He gave Sorey a last hug as Velvet paddled the dinghy to shore. “Can we come to the island to visit sometimes? I want to read with you and Mikleo and your puppies.”

“I’ll ask Mikleo,” Sorey promised. “But I’d love to have you, Phi. I think our puppies could use an older sibling to look up to.”

Phi puffed up a little in pride, and nodded. Sorey patted his head, gathered his bag, and then sloppily fumbled his way out of the dinghy the moment it looked like he could touch the bottom without the seawater stinging his shoulder. Phi bade him farewell as he waded through the waves.

“See you soon!” Phi called after him. “Make sure Mikleo doesn’t eat you up!”

Honestly, Sorey was aware of the possibility. Mikleo had been alone here for weeks, with no one to help sate his hunger; in too delicate a state to properly hunt. Sorey had been given some rations from the ship – dried jerky and biscuits, and a few fresh fish that Phi had hurled himself off the side of the boat to catch in his jaws. (The crew had to recover him with a net dangled off the side of the boat. It was done very casually, which led Sorey to believe it happened quite often.) Sorey could only hope it was enough to restore Mikleo’s good health.

A vision of Mikleo flashed before his eyes: all skin and bones, fading away, with their eggs going cold in the nest. Sorey raced through the surf, heedless of the pain and exhaustion in every limb.

The cave system was a labyrinth to outsiders, but mazes and mists were little obstacle – he had wandered these pathways endlessly in his dreams these past three weeks, and knew them so very well. He wound through the halls and climbed the dirt and stone pathways, scaling the mountain to its peak until he finally came upon their nest.

It was a scene that Sorey had come upon before, during his first blissful weeks spent here: a great nest of colorful blankets, and the morning sun glimmering on the distant waters. Sorey approached the nest, searching the blankets carefully for any hint of Mikleo’s fluffy bedhead peeping from the sea of silks. He saw instead a section of blankets that was swirled tightly around itself. Thin white fingers just barely peeked from underneath the fabrics.

Carefully, with his heart pounding in his throat, Sorey pulled away the coverings.

He was breathing, and sleeping soundly. He was very thin, and shivered without the blankets to cover him. He was curled around three beautiful, perfect eggs.

Mikleo’s face twisted, and he cracked open one eye. Sorey didn’t mean to wake him; or rather, he meant to wake him a bit more romantically. And not by crying on him.

“…Sorey?” Mikleo said softly. His eyes were wide, and they glistened with tears too – oh, Sorey was going to fall apart at this rate. He gathered Mikleo’s thin body into his arms, and did so.

“Sorey,” Mikleo said, stroking at his hair as Sorey sobbed into his neck and rocked them back and forth. “Sorey, put me back into the nest; the eggs…”

Mikleo had been sharing his meager body heat all alone for long enough. Sorey swirled them both into the blankets, nestling the eggs between them. He drew Mikleo into his arms.

“Sorey,” Mikleo murmured again. He pressed their foreheads together, and his eyes searched Sorey’s face. “…you’re really here? Alive. You’re real, this time…?”

“You called for me, this time around,” Sorey whispered. “Light on water. I heard it loud and clear, and I’m here to snatch you up as my own for good.”

“‘Know that my heart will guide me back to you no matter what the trial,’” Mikleo cited, shaking his head. He smoothed his hand over the marbled surface of the eggs’ shells. “Honestly. What am I going to do with you.”

Sorey covered Mikleo’s hand with his own, and pressed a kiss to Mikleo’s lips as they basked in each others’ warmth.

He would remain a hopeless romantic to the very happy end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2SPOOPY 4ROSE


	7. Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey introduces Mikleo to the in-laws, and the pups to their grandparents.

“Mikleo! I see their ship!”

Sorey squinted over the glittering waters, and waved at the approaching boat. He turned and jogged off to the waterfall basin where Mikleo had been preparing the pups for their grandparents’ first visit. His earrings, made from a few shed feathers from Mikleo’s wings, jingled and fluttered as he went. It felt so much easier to run with his hair cropped short, now – Mikleo was a deft hand with clippers.

 

_(“I’m cutting your hair,” Mikleo had firmly informed him once he was well again._

_“Wait,” Sorey said as Mikleo approached with shears glinting in his grip. “Wait. It’s a wedding tradition, in my kingdom, for a bride to have their hair cut on their wedding night--”_

_“Excellent,” Mikleo said. “Then you should have no further complaints regarding me chopping that mess off.”_

_Sorey smiled, and let Mikleo get to work)_

“Mikleo, did you hear me?” Sorey asked, filled with excitement and good cheer.

Oh, he’d written so many letters to his parents now; entrusting them to Velvet and her crew for delivery. It had taken many months to win them over – he’d assured them of his safety, and also his sanity, when they wrote back questioning it. But now that he’d informed them that they were grandparents, it appeared to have weakened their crumbling resolve. It took some convincing for Mikleo to permit visitors, but when Sorey coyly suggested that his grandparents might like to babysit to allow them some private time together, Mikleo’s resolve likewise began to crumble.

“I did hear you,” Mikleo said coldly. He handed one dripping-wet pup to Sorey. “Your son is ready to greet them. Your daughters are not.”

Aster, their little boy, was a meek and gentle soul; he liked nothing more than to curl up beside his parents to be read stories. In this sense, he was a boy after Sorey’s own heart. Their daughters, Anemone and Allium, had inherited Sorey and Mikleo’s…lust for life. And a certain lust for destruction that he could not quite genetically place. Perhaps he would have to discuss that with his parents.

The girls shrieked and charged at each other in the waterfall pool like a pair of charging bulls, and clocked their foreheads together as consequence, sending them both toppling over into the water. Their horns hadn’t grown in yet, and Sorey could only imagine what kind of mischief they’d have to pick up after when they finally did.

Mikleo feared no raging dragons, especially not ones that barely came up to mid-calf and couldn’t quite manage meat without having it pre-chewed. (Sorey appreciated everything Mikleo did to care for their children, but the pre-chewing thing took some getting used to. Ah, but Sorey thought he looked just as elegant gnawing on raw meat as he did soaring through the skies.) Mikleo seized them both by the scruff, and, one pup dangling from each hand, he marched them both over to the waterfall to dunk them there. The girls roared in fury, and it was quite terrifying. Except, you know, not.  

After the cold shower calmed the fire in their blood, the girls sullenly allowed Mikleo to finish washing them. Sorey bundled Aster in a towel, cradling him in his arms as he allowed him to dry off. The pups were covered in a fine downy coat of feathers that took a bit of effort to dry completely, which Sorey was always happy to assist with. Their coats were pale gray and white, so different than Mikleo’s splendid twilight coloring. Mikleo assured him that their adult coats would grow in a few years, but in the meantime, Sorey had the pleasure of cuddling a fluffy, purring little baby.

(Sometimes, Mikleo would groom up their coats to maximum fluffiness and set them floating on their backs in the waterfall pool like otters; helpless to do anything but squawk and flail their little limbs. It was a cunning strategy to buy Mikleo and Sorey some time to clean themselves and wash the nest’s bedding, without having to worry about the pups suplexing each other or terrorizing the local wildlife. It also had the unintentional side benefit of being pretty funny to watch.)

“Are you excited to meet your grandparents?” asked Sorey.

Aster chirped quietly, and nestled himself a little further in his bundle. Sorey gave him a squeeze, and bumped his nose against Aster’s little muzzle.

“Don’t worry, they’re sure to love you and your sisters. Everyone loves a nice clean baby.”

With an extra pair of hands on the island, and an extra mind to brainstorm ideas and draft blueprints, Sorey and Mikleo had turned their home into a wonderful place to raise a family. They’d decorated the nest with silks and pillows and tapestries, and soon, they would be able to move the pups into a separate nursery cave and finally get a good night’s sleep. It would be far enough that they wouldn’t be constantly woken up by Allium’s snoring, but near enough that they could hear Aster crying if he had a nightmare. (When Mikleo wasn’t already awake to groom him back to sleep, Sorey would pick him up and walk them up and down the beach, singing little lullabies, until he achieved the same ends. There was little help for the snoring, though. Her sister kicking her was likewise not a welcome assistance.)

While Sorey’s initial forays into carpentry had mixed results, he’d managed to successfully build some shelves for easier organization of their growing library – it was difficult to go through the many boxes that Mikleo had dragged into his treasure hoard over the years, especially with a passel of pups to chase after, but they were making steady progress. They’d even started drafting plans for an island-wide pulley system for easier transport of goods up the mountain, though it was a definite work in progress. (Preliminary tests demonstrated that the pulley system could not be used for sexual purposes without improvement to the load-bearing methods. Sorey and Mikleo managed to emerge from testing with only slight bruising.)

It was their own private paradise, and it was growing every day.

With the pups clean, and Mikleo’s mood improved by the application of kisses to his cheeks, they made their way down to the shore. Mikleo wrapped himself in his cloak, and the girls darted underneath it to peer out in secret at the visitors – and to swat at Mikleo’s twitching tail as they walked. Sorey’s parents sailed out in their dinghy; alone, with no guards, as Sorey’s firm instructions stated. They stepped out into the surf, and approached Sorey and Mikleo on the shore. Upon receiving Sorey’s tight embrace, Selene looked Mikleo up and down; her gaze lingering on the horns that framed his face so beautifully.

“You must be Mikleo,” she said slowly.

“Yes,” Mikleo said.

The silence was deafening.

“…you’re very lovely, just as Sorey told us,” Selene continued.

“At length,” muttered Georg, under his breath. He wheezed as Selene jabbed her elbow into his side.

Mikleo narrowed his eyes at Sorey and huffed a bit.

“He told me his letters to you were detailing the health of the pups,” Mikleo said. “I apologize.”

Selene perked up at the mention, and looked at the bundle in Sorey’s arms curiously.

“Yes, your—your pups,” Selene said. “Is this little Aster?”

Sorey beamed proudly, and allowed his mother to peek into the blankets. Selene blinked at the little dragon that shyly looked back at her. Mikleo made a chirruping sound in his throat, and Anemone and Allium poked their heads out from under his cloak.

Selene paused a moment to take it all in. And then, her heart visibly melted.

“My sweet little grandchildren,” Selene sighed. She clutched her hands to her heart, and her eyes seemed to beg Sorey to permit her to hold the bundled-up bouncing baby boy. At Mikleo’s slow, halting nod, Sorey allowed it. “Oh Georg, aren’t they just darling? Aster, you have your papa’s eyes…”

Aster cooed back at his grandmother, and timidly booped his muzzle against Selene’s forehead. She was off in her own little world, now, of grandmotherly bliss. Mikleo was becoming more convinced that he wouldn’t have to gather up the pups and flee to the top of the mountain, and so he let some of the tension leave his back, and let his wings droop down a bit. The girls were becoming braver as they felt Mikleo relax; moreover, they were getting quite jealous of the attention that their brother was receiving. While Selene was occupied, there was another grandparent to target.

Before Mikleo or Sorey could react, Anemone and Allium raced out from under Mikleo’s cloak and charged at Georg, shrieking a war-cry. They greeted their grandfather with the application of their rock-hard foreheads to his kneecaps, sending him tumbling over into the surf and sand.

“Dad!” Sorey rushed over. “Girls, you know that’s not how you greet guests!”

Georg was laughing. Georg was soaked, and covered in sand, and _laughing_ , and gave the girls a light little poke to their foreheads. Anemone snapped at his finger playfully, and Allium bounced on his stomach in delight, fluttering her nubby little wings on every jump. Sorey recalled how much his father loved that cantankerous, ancient black cat of his, Symonne – perhaps he just was weak to all things cute and deadly.

“Lions already, are you? Perhaps I should set the pair of you loose in the court to make meetings more interesting. A pair of proud hunters. Yes, you both remind me of myself at your age…”

Sorey thought that was a bizarre image to consider. And, after meeting his parents, Mikleo thought he was beginning to get a bit more insight to Sorey’s entirely unique self.

Sorey didn’t want to push Mikleo into anything too quickly, didn’t want to exhaust his social patience by having guests for too long – this was a day visit, not an overnight stay. However, by the time they’d shown his parents around the island and spent more time getting to know the pups, it was already time for their ship to set sail back for Midgand’s docks.

“Please do allow us to visit again,” Selene said. She stood a respectful distance from Mikleo. “We would love to spend more time with you and the children. Please continue to care for Sorey as you have.”

Mikleo gave her a nod.

“Of course,” Mikleo said. “The pups are fond of you.”

“Speaking of pups, I’ll have to bring out my own little puppies to play with the children next time,” Selene said thoughtfully. “Gaius would love to sun himself at your waterfall, and oh, Milla would love to prance after the little dragonflies…”

Sorey’s mother had a small army of Pomeranian dogs at the palace; they loved to swarm her feet like a furry tornado as she walked the gardens. Mikleo seemed aware that she was not talking about pups in the offspring sense, but was visibly uncertain as to the prospect of more visitors. Sorey wrapped an arm around him comfortingly. Maybe not the whole Pomeranian army, but his mother bringing one or two surely wouldn’t be so overwhelming. Perhaps she’d bring Jude. He was a mellow and gentle ball of fluff in any circumstances – Sorey would trust him to behave even when faced with a trio of terrible beasties.

Georg had a pup dangling under each arm, and appeared reluctant to set them down. He did so, finally, after some prodding, and limped back to the boat after Selene, with bruised kneecaps and a little spring in his step. The girls sat back on their hind legs to watch the ship push off. Aster, for his part, was passed out in Mikleo’s arms; all cuddled out.

The sun was starting to dip over the horizon, and the skies bloomed with twilight colors. Mikleo leaned in, and Sorey followed his motion to accept the headbutt – and pursue a kiss after it.

“We should gather everyone back at the nest,” Mikleo said.

“Agreed, though I think Aster beat us all to the punch there,” Sorey observed.

Aster chittered in his sleep, and stretched his claws out once before tucking them back against his chest and nuzzling up to Mikleo once more. The girls, while usually more independent and less cuddly, were tired from their big day today as well – they propped their front feet up on Sorey’s legs, and pawed at him until Sorey hoisted them both up to carry up the mountain.

“Your parents gave you a letter from your ex-fiancée,” Mikleo said. “I saw it. Would you like to be alone to read?”

They had finished tucking the pups in for the night, and were watching the stars come out from their cozy little nest. Sorey idly twirled a little yellow blossom between his fingers, and tucked it behind Mikleo’s ear. Mikleo frowned and reached up so its petals didn’t tickle his horns so.

“No,” Sorey said. “No, you know that I’ve gotten a taste for having company while I read.”

 

_Sorey –_

_So this is what it feels like to be left at the altar. But I guess this is always how those romance novels of yours end, right? The evil ex getting ditched, and the lovers riding off into the sunset._

_Blah, that makes it sound like I’m upset. I’m not, I promise. I’m glad you cut me off when you did – I was going down a path that was leading nowhere good. Once you sent us word that you were safe and well and thoroughly eloped, and knocked up that man of yours (nice!!), I took some time to think. And make amends._

_Apologizing to Crowe’s crew was a cinch, all they wanted was money. But geez, do you know how hard it is to win back the heart of an incorporeal woman scorned? Trust me, Sorey, you’ve heard about cold shoulders, but that aunt of yours is just…one of a kind._

_(Incidentally, what are the laws of royal succession for when you make it with the ghost of a princess from a million years ago? Asking for a friend.)_

_(Alisha insists that I specify she’s not a million years old. Touchy, touchy.)_

_In any event. Thanks for taking the time to read this, even after everything.  I’m glad you found your own little romance novel and your happy ending. If you ever need supplies shipped out to your little love nest, as always, you know who to call. And your parents say you and the other half want to publish a book? I’ve always wanted to get into publishing. Keep in touch._

_– Rose S._

 

“Do you think we should tell her about all the lost shipments from her company that wash up here?” Sorey thought aloud.

Mikleo pouted at him. “No. It washes up here, it’s mine.”

Sorey laughed and pulled him in close, kissing at his temple as he squirmed in his arms.

“I can vouch for that,” he said. “Now and always.”

Mikleo had gained back the weight he’d lost from his time starving alone in the nest – Sorey had seen to that. Sorey slid a hand down Mikleo’s back to squeeze at his backside appraisingly. Yes, yes, very healthy indeed. Mikleo swatted at him half-heartedly, but the edge of his lips was quirked in a little smile. Sorey leaned in to brush his lips along the shell of Mikleo’s ear.

“I think everyone’s fast asleep by now.”

Mikleo shivered and leaned back, pulling Sorey in even as he whispered, “Then you should follow our children’s good example.”

Mikleo’s lips and tongue did not make Sorey want to fall asleep. No, not at all. He needed to feel more, all over him, everywhere…though perhaps they should adjourn from the nesting room, first.

They crept out with careful footsteps to avoid waking the terrible beasts cuddled up in the nest, and climbed through the cave system until they emerged into the open air – a flat, grassy outcropping near the top of the mountain that overlooked the island. The stars twinkled, and the sound of the ocean’s waves carried clearly on the night breeze. It was a lovely place to bask in each other’s company after a busy day of parenting and entertaining guests, and it was an even lovelier place for Sorey to bask in the attention of Mikleo’s tongue. And how lovely it was – so big and wet and warm, laving Sorey with long, slow licks. Mikleo’s human form was beautiful enough. It almost wasn’t fair that his dragon form was equally as beautiful, and equally as talented.

“ _Mikleo_ ,” Sorey whined, rolling onto his stomach and popping his ass up meaningfully. “You’re teasing me again.”

Mikleo chuffed a laugh through his nose, and his warm breath tickled Sorey’s damp skin. Sorey shivered, feeling goosebumps rise. The goosebumps only spread as feathers brushed his skin when Mikleo shifted into position. He climbed atop Sorey and grasped onto his shoulders with his claws for balance. The thick head of his cock pressed against Sorey’s entrance, and then Mikleo stopped; held himself in place, nosed at the back of Sorey’s neck with his muzzle, let his warm breath and hot tongue flit over his nape. Sorey whined again, and tried to shift himself up and back – he _really_ needed Mikleo’s cock, _really_ needed it – but was stopped by Mikleo’s firm grip on his shoulders pinning him to the soft ground. Mikleo gave a deep purr, and licked Sorey’s nape once more before he finally showed some mercy to Sorey’s poor libido and slid his cock inside; slowly, slowly, until he was fully seated.

Sorey loved being with Mikleo in any way possible: in either of his forms, top or bottom or plummeting through the clouds while frantically sixty-nining. But there were some nights where he just really, really needed to be stretched out by Mikleo’s dragon cock, and tonight was one of those nights. Sorey moaned from deep within his chest as Mikleo’s big cock slid out of him, then slowly back in. Mikleo’s grip on his shoulders kept Sorey from adjusting the pace, allowing Mikleo to have his way with him exactly as he saw fit.

“Mikleo,” Sorey begged. “God, please, my beautiful bride, Mikleo, faster, please…”

Mikleo growled in his ear, making Sorey shiver deliciously as the sound resonated through his whole body. Still, Mikleo seemed to agree with the sentiment, and shoved Sorey’s shoulders down further so Sorey could arch his back up and give Mikleo a better angle to fuck him hard and fast. Sorey could barely hold himself upright with Mikleo’s weight on him, with his hot breath on his skin; with Mikleo’s cock hitting every sensitive spot inside in so effortlessly. He couldn’t last any longer – he’d improved his stamina since the first time they tried it like this, but he couldn’t last, he couldn’t last. He let his cheek rest against the soft grass and shoved his hand down to wrap around his cock for relief; pumping it in time to Mikleo’s deep, relentless thrusts. Mikleo cooed when Sorey clenched down and came into his hand, and with one, two more shaky thrusts, he was climaxing alongside him.

They lounged together under the stars; Sorey nuzzling into Mikleo’s feathers for warmth, one of Mikleo’s wings draped over him. Sorey felt Mikleo’s cum drooling out of him, down the back of his thigh. Mikleo would probably force him under the waterfall to rinse off before he let him back into the nest, but for now, he was content to let Sorey nuzzle him and doze.

It wouldn’t do to camp out under the stars tonight, though; not with a nest of little fuzzballs to look after inside. Sorey awoke to Mikleo’s human hand stroking the hair back from his forehead, his lips on his temple, and his grip on his wrist tugging him upright. Sorey groaned and went along with the tugging, and allowed Mikleo to bundle him back into his sleeping robes against the chill of the night air.

After a brief detour to the waterfall, they quietly crept back into the nest room. However, while their absence had not been missed by the sleeping pups, their return caused a pair of beady little eyes to peek out of the blankets.

The staring contest between Anemone and her parents seemed to stretch on for ages, but, with a judgmental glare and a pointed yawn, Anemone tucked her snout back into the blankets.

“Mrph,” she grunted, accusingly.

Suitably chastised for being up past their bedtime, Sorey and Mikleo tucked themselves into bed; curling around each other, listening to the tiny honking snores from the pups’ blanket pile. Sorey idly traced his fingers along the skin of Mikleo’s back, rubbing where his wings met his spine.

A bride, a family, a home. A fairytale ending. It was all he’d dreamed of, and more.

Sorey leaned in to press a kiss to Mikleo’s lips, and then whispered into his ear.

“When do you think we’ll be ready for more?”

Mikleo pinched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for following until the end! (And stay tuned for some shorts!)
> 
> Thank you again to Ali and Nami for helping with this fic -- without them, I doubt it would have happened. It's been a ride, and one that I will treasure. <33

**Author's Note:**

> The dragon dirge is lifted directly from the aforementioned "He's a Dragon" movie, and any clunkiness is the fault of the terrible subtitles. I tried to clean it up as best I could, but at some point you just throw up your hands, let it be, and move on to the more important things.
> 
>  **EDIT (3/5/18):** Thanks to AO3 user berrymelon, we now have a translation of the dirge that makes sense!  <333 I've replaced the original version with their translation, but you can ping me directly if you want to laugh at the original.


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